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A STORY OF 
TWO CRIMES 


BY 


PAULINE GRAYSON 

AUTHOR OF TfflTpLAYS 

THE HEIRESS OF ROSEDALE," “ THE QUEEN OF CENTURIES,” 
'•JEAN VALJEAN.” ETC., ETC 


NEW YORK 

THE TRADE SUPPLIED BY 

THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY 

1889 





P Y R R H A 




A STORY OF TWO CRIMES 


'V 


PAULINE GRAYSON 


m 


AUTHOR OF THE PLAYS 


THE HEIRESS OF ROSEDALE,” “THE QUEEN OF CENTURIES” 
“JEAN VALJEAN,” ETC., ETC 


V 


COPYRIGHT ^V' 

API' 20 1889 ft 

X>RK 

THE TRADE SUPPLIED BY 

THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY 

1889 




Copyright, 1889, by 
PAULINE GRAYSON. 


[All rights reserved .] 




Press of J. J. Little & Co., 
Astor Place, New York. 


PYRRHA: 

A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! 


CHAPTER I. 

“Trust in thine own untried capacity 
As thou wouldst trust in God Himself.” 

Riverside, a suburb of one of our central cities, is 
noted for the beauty of its residences and the grandeur of 
its surrounding scenery. A ridge of blue, mist-shrouded 
mountains rises in sublimity against the horizon, and wild, 
entrancing beauty meets the eye at every turn. 

A clear, running river, like a silver chain shaken by the 
Almighty hand, winds through the picturesque landscape : 
now dashing through a strip of luxurious woods, th^p 
between richly clad hills, and again rolling out into a 
wide, bubbling stream, that churns and foams amidst 
jutting rocks which break the flow of liquid silver into 
numerous cascades. 

On the opposite hill, which gently slopes to the water’s 
edge, stands a gray stone house, built like a castle, with 
massive towers that loom high above the bluish-green pines 
and cedar trees which form a gloomy background to the 
picture, and correspond with the stern aspect that charac- 
terizes “ Ravenwold.” 

The owner of this place is scarcely thirty-five, though he 
looks fully ten years older as he wanders about the well- 
ordered park, noting the change that time has wrought 
during his five years’ absence. 

It is apparent to any casual observer that the place is 
destitute of flowers. No brilliant tints relieve the sombre 
surroundings, but the grounds abound in shady shrubbery 
and rare tropical plants. 

1 


2 


pyrrha: 


The gardener, knowing well his master’s eccentric 
tastes, and the bitter aversion he has for the gay and 
beautiful, has mercilessly uprooted every wild flower that 
chanced to intrude itself. A cluster of heart’s-ease, how- 
ever, nestling away among the velvety blades of grass, 
managed to escape the watchful eye, and now nodded tri- 
umphantly its colored petals in a friendly welcome as the 
grim owner appeared. 

He paused in his walk to inspect a new species of 
cypress which had been planted the previous day; and as 
he did so, the bright beauty of the pansies attracted his 
attention, and, with a savage oath, he ruthlessly severed 
the blossoms from their stems, crushing the purple and 
gold beneath his heel. 

“ Curse their beauty ! ” he muttered, “ I want none of 
it ! ” 

He was a strange figure, this man with his deformed 
back and crooked legs ; and as he emerged from the 
dense shadow of a Norway pine into the bright glow of 
the setting sun; his countenance was seen to be amazingly 
disgusting and offensive. 

Square, massive jaws, covered with a heavy growth of 
ebony-black hair, make the sensual mouth, and thick, red 
lips more repulsive by contrast of color ; a nose, resem- 
Ming a parrot’s beak, nearly meets the upper lip ; while 
from a projecting brow, eyebrows, running in an unbroken 
line across the nose, hang like a jet fringe over deep-set 
eyes, which gleam like living coals ; coarse, dark hair 
grows low on the swarthy forehead and about the large 
ears which protrude from a peculiarly shaped head. 

His own mother shuddered at his ugliness, and when a 
child his deformity repulsed all youthful association ; he 
grew apart from the influence of love and tenderness which 
brightens childhood’s days — the sweet memory of which 
follows us through the struggle of life, keeping our hearts 
pure and gentle by its early teaching. 

Ivan Griffith’s soul had become charred and blackened 
in its infancy by the fire of passionate hatred which he 
cherished toward mankind. He never yearned for sym- 
pathy ; his nature had become callous, and insensible to 
every emotion except that produced by the glitter of gold. 

When but ten years of age his father died, leaving him 
a large estate, to which was added the wealth of his 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


3 


mother, who passed away ere he had attained man- 
hood. 

Though he had every educational opportunity, he was 
uncouth in manners and vulgar in his habits. 

His instructors found it impossible to impress him with 
the importance of mind culture. So preoccupied was 
he with his own morbid meditations that no thought or 
desire for knowledge awakened ambition within him. 
His temper grew so ungovernable that it was with undis- 
guised delight that his fellow-students watched his egress 
from college. 

He had shunned women to such a degree that he would 
not tolerate their presence in his house, and all his ser- 
vants were of the masculine order, who feared yet de- 
spisecfthe master of “ Ravenwold.” The idea of marriage 
had never occurred to him, and not until the close of this 
balmy June day, on which our story opens, had his pulse 
beat one iota quicker than the laws of perfect health 
required. 

With grim delight Griffith wandered about his princely 
domains, unmindful of the gathering twilight, and only 
pausing now and then to give vent to his satisfaction in 
language that bordered closely upon profanity. 

He had reached the river, which at this point spread 
out into a broad, tranquil stream, which cradled fragrant 
pond-lilies on its placid bosom, before he discovered that 
the adjoining property, which had been neglected for so 
many years and which he found convenient for pasturage, 
was now occupied. 

The owner of “ Ravenwold ” swore aloud at his lawyer’s 
stupidity for permitting such a valuable tract of land to 
slip through his fingers. He had only delayed purchasing 
the “ Geer ” in order to obtain it for a mere trifle, as it 
gradually sank into waste ; nor was he reconciled until 
the suave man of law informed him of the heavy mortgage 
which he held on the place, and the possibility of an early 
foreclosure. 

Ivan Griffith stood, with a lowering face, gazing at the 
old mansion that had braved the storms for nearly a cen- 
tury. It was no longer shrouded in gloom and neglect : 
the dilapidated stone wall, with its patches of lichen moss 
and clinging myrtle, had been removed, and in its place 
stood a neat iron fence, with arched gateways, whose 


4 


PYRRHA : 


pillars supported large jars of blooming flowers. The 
lawn was smooth and velvety, while here and there 
were grouped figures of marble that gleamed pearly white 
in the light of the silvery crescent that swung above in 
the deep blue sky. 

Lights shone from the long windows, and shadows 
flitted across the curtains, while voices came from the 
servants’ hall. 

The sullen spectator noted the air of refinement which 
hovered over the place, and the violent temper of the 
man lashed his ill-shapen form into a trembling rage. He 
ground his teeth, and imprecations fell in a hot torrent 
from his lips. But suddenly a pure voice drowned his 
blasphemy, — a voice that rose tremulous on the summer 
breeze, one moment so exquisitely sweet, then bursting 
forth into a passionate mournfulness which seemed to 
impress the man, for he started, then paused to listen. 

Land, bonds, gold, and avarice were all forgotten as 
nearer came the magic strains with their masterly influence. 

Screened by the friendly shadow of a dwarf cedar, he 
eagerly watched as a dainty boat glided into the moonlit 
space, occupied by a silent rower and a white-robed fig- 
ure that partly reclined on the cushioned seat in the 
stern. Slowly it drifted by, within a few feet from where 
Griffith stood. He noted the graceful pose of the girl, 
and the despondent attitude of the man, who occasion- 
ally dipped the oars into the sparkling, rippling water. 

With intense interest he watched the mooring of the 
little shell to the flight of stone steps, and saw the fig- 
ures disappear into the boat-house with its red-tiled 
roof. Hoping to obtain a view of the singer’s face, he 
hastened along and stood at the gateway of the “ Geer,” 
for he felt assured that these two were his neighbors. 
So closely did they pass that her soft drapery brushed 
against his hand, and the breath of violets lingered after 
she had gone. 

The girl was still singing softly, while the man — who 
was no other than Robert Powell, her father — seemed 
deeply merged in thought, and neither observed the 
dwarf-like figure as it crouched at the entrance of their 
home. 

Ivan Griffith removed his hat, straightened his stooped 
shoulders, and muttered like one in a dream : 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


5 


“How lovely ! how lovely ! ” 

Had that gust of melody awakened a tender chord in 
that brute man’s heart ? Evidently a change was taking 
place in his stony nature. To-night he did not despise 
beauty, nor curse his own deformity, the moon, the stars, 
and the day that he was born, as was his wont. 

Ah, love — that strange unfathomable thing which is 
often created by the sound of a voice, the touch of a 
hand, the glance of an eye, and which so few of us 
escape — had caught, without a warning, this selfish mon- 
ster in its web, and fate decreed that he should suffer the 
blight, or blessing, of its existence. 

With head slightly bowed, he walked slowly back to 
his luxurious residence, while conflicting emotions were 
running riot in his heart and brain. 

For the first time in all his years he was awakening 
into a life wherein something outside of self became of 
interest. A sensation, heretofore unknown, stole over his 
darkened soul, and the world wore a new aspect. 

Ivan Griffith, the rich, the cruel, did not sleep that 
night ; for the first time slumber refused to visit his eyes. 
He tossed about on his spacious bed ; he tried to read ; 
he endeavored to figure up his vast estates ; but it was 
all useless. A strain of sweetest music seemed floating 
about the room, and the vision of a white-robed figure, 
with finely carved features, flitted constantly before him. 
In desperation he arose, slipped on a silken dressing- 
gown, lit a fragrant cigar, and drew aside the costly 
curtains. The window commanded a view of the old 
mansion, and he strained his eyes to catch the faint 
glimmer of a light as the breeze stirred the leafy boughs 
of the elms which separated the estates. 

It would have been hard to define his thoughts as he 
blew the smoke into tiny rings, and watched them as they 
melted into the summer air. After a while he murmured : 

“ Why should I not possess her ? I am rich, and 
powerful in all things. I have never denied myself a 
single wish, and since my whole being longs for her, I 
will possess her. She is the one woman fit to grace my 
royal ‘ Ravenwold.’ Egad ! what a voice she has ! ’’ and 
he began pacing the floor in restless impatience as he 
recalled the scene. He did not ask himself if that fair 
vision of loveliness could link her fresh young life with 


6 


PYRRHA : 


his ; whether her pure lips would submit to the contami- 
nation of his kiss ; whether she would not shrink at the 
sight of his branded visage. No, no ! common sense 
was entirely dethroned — passion usurped its place, and 
the wayward heart that had never been denied bounded 
wildly at the thought of making her mistress of his home. 
He did not dream that a refusal could be possible when 
he should deem fit to offer his hand, which was so richly 
endowed. 

“Supposing she is already wed?” As this question 
occurred to his heated brain, his eyes gleamed fiercely, 
and he muttered something that brought a wicked smile 
to his grim features. 

The following morning Robert Powell was surprised to 
receive a basket of choice fruit from the extensive hot- 
house at “ Ravenwold,” with compliments of the owner, 
and later in the day a visit from Ivan Griffith himself. 
The latter, unable to control his impatience, mounted 
his Russian stallion, and boldly rode over to the ‘ Geer,” 
inquiring for a valuable Southdown which had strayed 
during the night. 

Robert Powell, a gentleman of marked refinement, had 
some four years ago purchased the “ Geer ” property, 
removed the signs of ruin, and converted it into a beau- 
tiful retreat where he spent several summers of delightful 
felicity with his devoted family of three. Anxious to 
accumulate a fortune, which might enable him to gratify 
their every desire, he entered largely into speculation, but 
unfortunately all proved disastrous, and subsequently he 
sank his remaining capital in an extensive manufacturing 
enterprise which, in his judgment, gave promise of large 
profits. In the meantime he found it expedient to place 
a mortgage on his home, sanguine that he would be in a 
position to meet the debt when it fell due. 

Mr. Powell greeted Ivan Griffith in a friendly manner, 
and readily assisted in searching for the lost sheep. 
Through the woodland, over the meadow, together they 
went, and during their conversation the former became 
cognizant of his neighbor’s vast wealth, and for the first 
time learned how closely his interests were associated with 
the owner of whole districts, and who was the controlling 
power of the enterprise that held every dollar Powell 
possessed. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


7 


They finally discovered the Southdown quietly grazing 
on a patch of tender clover, not far from the fence that 
separated the field from its own pasture, from which 
Griffith had driven the innocent creature at early dawn. 

This little ruse gave him an opportunity to intrude his 
presence, and study the character of the man who would 
be entirely in his power should he refuse him the prize 
he was bent on securing. 

On reaching the house Griffith was presented to Mrs. 
Powell, a delicate little lady, who smiled pleasantly, 
though his ugliness shocked her, and to Allan, a hand- 
some boy of twenty, the image of his father ; but was 
bitterly disappointed when the singer of the previous 
night failed to appear. 

He sprang into his saddle, spoke a few words to the 
fiery steed in a strange language, and patted the glossy, 
proudly curved neck as Powell stood near admiring the 
magnificent animal. 

A merry, ringing laugh caused the men to look up, and 
an expression of pride settled on the father’s troubled 
countenance as Pyrrha, the joy of his heart, dashed across 
the lawn, followed by a fine Italian greyhound. 

She paused as she observed the horseman and the 
penetrating gaze which he instantly fixed upon her : the 
laughter ceased ; the sparkle in her eyes vanished ; the 
rosy bloom faded, while the cheeks blanched, and fear 
was written on every feature. 

A vague, nameless dread possessed her ; a presentiment 
of future evil seized her heart, and every fibre in the girl’s 
frame received a shock, as she stood face to face with the 
master of the domain she had so often admired. 

Griffith ventured a few commonplace remarks, but the 
white lips refused to form a reply, and her father — seeing 
the change in his treasure — made some plausible excuse, 
and bade his neighbor good-day. 

Pyrrha Powell, though only seventeen, was beautifully 
developed, and impressed one as being much older. She 
possessed a face remarkable for its fine chiselling and 
mobile features, that withal displayed a strength of char- 
acter rarely seen in one so young. The usually laughing 
eyes were shaded by long straight lashes, and the regal 
head was crowned with short clustering curls, that were 
golden in the sunlight and brown in the shadow. 


8 


PYRRHA ! 


It was a face fit to awaken emotion in the coldest heart, 
and the flame which her voice had kindled in Griffith’s 
frozen nature, leaped into a conflagration that threatened 
to consume his soul as he gazed upon her pure beauty in 
the morning sunlight. 


CHAPTER II. 

SEVERAL'weeks later Pyrrha sat in the sunny bay-window 
engaged on some light fancy needlework. Her satin brow 
was puckered into many wrinkles, and she paid no atten- 
tion to the talkative parrot “ Me too,” who picked at her 
pink ears, and pulled the glossy golden ringlets when she 
refused to answer his “ Halloo, sweetheart ! ” 

She had seen Ivan Griffith — who of late had become 
a constant visitor — enter the library, and though an hour 
had elapsed he was still closeted with her father. 

Pyrrha had not failed to observe the worried expression 
which her loving parents wore, and she felt confident that 
their neighbor was in some way responsible for the trouble. 

“ Remember, Robert Powell, ruin stares you in the 
face should she refuse ! ” 

The sentence was spoken just above a whisper, yet 
Pyrrha knew the coarse voice, and she started to her feet, 
causing “ Me too ” to lose his position on her shoulder 
and fall to the carpet with a loud “ Halloo ! ” 

Robert Powell met his daughter in the hall, and both 
stood in silence watching the deformed man until he dis- 
appeared. Then Powell took the fair girl’s hand and led 
her back into the room. 

“ My child, come sit by me ; I want to look upon your 
happy, laughing face, and forget that there is any world 
outside of this, our home,” said the troubled man, as 
Pyrrha threw herself on the Turkish rug with childish 
abandonment and caressed the brilliant plumage of her 
pet bird. 

“ Father, there is something on your mind. What has 
Mr. Griffith said to distress you ? I am sure he is the 
cause of this worried look which sits constantly on your 
face since our neighbor condescended to visit us. Come, 
confide in me, dearest, and I may advise some speedy 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


9 


antidote to rid you of his presence.” Pyrrha wound her 
arm around his neck and patted his cheek tenderly. 

“ You do not admire him, then ? Ah ! how could you, 
you are so young, so lovely, while he ” 

“Oh, he is monstrous ! Ugh ! I shudder every time 
I look at him. And have you observed how persistently 
he follows me about, how insolently he stares at me ? I 
wish he would not bring me flowers, though they are 
exquisite ; I wish that he would stay away and not annoy 
you.” 

“ Can you not regard him with respect ? Could you 
ever look upon him as — as ” 

“ I do not understand,” replied the girl, as her father 
paused, unable to complete his sentence ; “ I could never 
look upon him as a friend, or — Father, you — you — 
Oh, what does this mean ? ” she continued in a frightened 
voice as she faintly comprehended the drift of the con- 
versation. 

“ Nothing — nothing, Pyrrha. Do not look so alarmed. 
Run and get your hat, and we’ll go out and look up a 
suitable spot for that Grand Duke Jasmine, which should 
have been planted before this, and we’ll take a walk 
to the grove, for Peterson tells me there is a beautiful 
doe for you, which was sent this morning anonymously. 
There ! don’t ask questions now, but get your hat.” 
Powell kissed the peachy cheek, and the girl hurried 
away, saying to herself that she despised more than ever 
before the black, satan-like face of Ivan Griffith : while 
her father walked restlessly about the room, exclaiming, 
“ I cannot tell her ; I cannot ask her to marry a man 
she hates and fears. Yet this ruin — this ruin which is 
inevitable ” 

“ Ready, papa dear,” called Pyrrha’s sweet voice ; and 
he went out into the sunshine of her presence and that 
of God’s own beautiful world. 

That very evening Ivan Griffith threw open his doors 
to society, and many were the invitations that were issued 
for the first reception at “ Ravenwold.” 

Ke took special pains, during his interview in the 
library, to impress Powell with the importance of his 
attendance, and that of the fair girl who he was deter- 
mined should become his wife. 

The unhappy man was truly perplexed. He had not 


IO 


PYRRHA : 


the courage to acquaint his family with the condition of 
his affairs, and he hesitated to refuse the millionaire, for 
that would entail bankruptcy and ruin. 

Ultimately he concluded to attend the reception, and 
there inform Griffith that he preferred to lose all rather 
than give his child to a man she did not love. 

Pyrrha had no desire to go to “ Ravenwold,” but it was 
her father’s request, and she offered no decided objec- 
tion, although her heart felt faint as she fastened the 
half-blown roses on her bosom, among the gauzy folds 
which completed her simple toilet for the occasion. 

Proudly Mr. Powell escorted his daughter into the 
brilliantly lighted rooms, which were comfortably filled 
with beautifully attired women, and men who were prom- 
inent for their wealth and social position, who were pres- 
ent at the “ Castle ” largely from curiosity. 

The interior of “ Ravenwold ” was fitted up in Oriental 
style. The main hall was finished in purple-reds inter- 
spersed with gold ; the reception-rooms and ball-room 
were the most beautiful of their kind. The walls were 
covered with satin damask of a pale gold tone, the lofty 
ceilings were done in light blues, while gas-jets were so 
arranged as to form stars, and when lighted the effect 
was particularly beautiful. Broad pieces of carpet and 
expensive skins nearly covered the marble tiles (which 
were of orange, white, and black), only leaving sufficient 
to peep through as a foil to the confused masses of colors. 

The furniture was mostly in ebony, coral, and mother- 
of-pearl, enriched with thick, heavy satin that hinted of 
gold, amber, pink, and blue. Plate mirrors reflected the 
mazy scene from every angle, while the arched doorways 
were hung with rare and costly tapestry. 

There was much wonderment at this magnificence and 
exquisite taste, which would never have been ascribed to 
the owner of the castle, and few ever knew that not a 
single article had been purchased by Griffith, but by the 
lawyer who selected and advised everything, and who 
annually drew an enormous salary for his valuable counsel. 

Pyrrha had finished her first waltz, and stood at the 
open window, vigorously fanning her flushed face, when 
the magnetic influence of a pair of eyes caused her to 
look up, and she met the fixed gaze of Philip Everemond, 
a prominent physician who resided in the adjacent town 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


II 

of C ■, and who, she remembered, had attended her 

father during a brief illness the year before. She bowed 
in recognition. As he turned away to escort a fashion- 
ably dressed woman out on the veranda, Pyrrha noted 
his stately figure and noble bearing, and her heart flut- 
tered strangely as she recalled his ill-concealed glance of 
admiration. 

At this juncture, the assembled guests were thrown 
into a state of mild surprise when it was announced that, 
in honor of Miss Powell, the “ Pyrrhic dance ” — a repro- 
duction of the popular military minuet of the ancient 
Greeks and Romans — would be given by a special troupe. 
The master of ceremonies requested the ladies and gen- 
tlemen to take part in the more formal figures of the 
dance. There was much merriment, and all seemed to 
thoroughly enjoy the amusing features except Pyrrha, 
who divined the motive of the host, and knew that he 
meant to show his admiration for her in this marked 
manner, an admiration which she heartily resented. She 
therefore availed herself of the earliest opportunity, and 
slipped unobserved from the ball-room, taking shelter in 
the conservatory. 

Mechanically she dipped her shapely fingers into the 
cool water of the playing fountain, which occupied one 
corner of the delightful retreat, thinking, with a shudder, 
of the ugly gleam of Ivan Griffith’s eyes, and wishing 
that her father would take her home. 

“Ah!” said the voice she so hated, at her elbow, “I 
see you enjoy solitude. That is favorable, since I am 
inclined that way myself, and we will make a congenial 
couple, eh ? ” 

“Excuse me, sir. You are speaking in enigmas,” and 
she started to leave the room. 

“ Pardon me, I must detain you a moment. Sit down 
while I endeavor to explain myself.” 

“ An explanation is unnecessary, Mr. Griffith.” 

“ Then your father has communicated to you my ” 

“ My father has said nothing concerning you, sir,” she 
interrupted. “And nothing you can say will be of inter- 
est to me.” She walked toward the door. 

“ Stay one moment, for you must know that your father 
promised me your hand in marriage.” 

“What ?” she gasped, growing white as the dress she 


12 


pyrrha: 


wore, and the strange interview with her father rose 
vividly before her mind. 

“Yes, my dear. He promised me your hand in wed- 
lock. You must know that your father has become 
embarrassed in financial matters which I control ; I have 
become enchanted with his daughter, whom he controls. 
I love you almost as well as I love myself, and I hope you 
can see that the exchange is fair.” 

“ This cannot be true,” vehemently exclaimed the girl. 
“ I will not believe it until — until my father says it is so. 
Oh ! it is all wrong ! ” she continued with a sob. 

“Wrong?” he echoed. “Ah, you are too young to 
understand. Come, take my arm, and let me present you 
to my guests as the future Mrs. Griffith.” 

“ No, sir. I have said I did not believe you, I — I — 
will go and find my father.” She grew nervous and 
frightened, and sought to escape ; but he stood before the 
door as if to prevent her going. 

“ You cannot leave me until I have the kiss of betrothal : 
the kiss I have longed for, dreamed of, ever since the 
night I first heard your voice, and now that you are going 

to be mine, all mi?ie , I have a right to take it. I ” 

He advanced as he spoke. 

“ Father ! father ! ” cried Pyrrha in terror, as he caught 
her, and would have pressed his sensual lips to those of 
the struggling girl had not a figure entered the room. 
The next instant Pyrrha looked up to find herself safe in 
the arms of Dr. Everemond. 

“ What right have you to interfere ? ” asked Griffith, 
with difficulty restraining himself from leaping at the 
physician. “ She is my wife-elect.” 

“ You lie ! ” and Robert Powell confronted the baffled, 
raging monster. “ You know that assertion is false, Ivan 
Griffith ; for scarce half an hour ago I told you that I 
refused your offer. I would sooner see my child begging 
from door to door than become the wife of one whose his- 
tory and character I now know to be that of a profligate, 
a thief, a coward, a ” and Powell threw his handker- 

chief in Griffith’s face. 

“ By heaven ! ” interrupted Griffith ; “ you shall answer 
for this right here .” And while speaking he tore off his 
coat and assumed a menacing attitude. 

“ Take that back ! Take ” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


J 3 


Pyrrha sprang forward as if to protect her father. 

“ No, no ! Do not quarrel. Oh, father, come away ! 
come away at once ! ” 

“Be calm, my child ” 

“ I demand satisfaction ! and mean to have it,” broke 
in the now thoroughly enraged suitor. 

“ Not in the presence of a lady. You forget yourself,” 
said Everemond, as he laid a strong detaining hand on 
Griffith’s shoulder. 

“ What do I care for a woman? I mean to fight him, he 
has insulted me, he calls me a coward ! He — he — he — ” 
So furious he grew that articulation became impossible. 

Taking the half-fainting girl on his arm, Robert Powell 
left the conservatory, avoided the ball-room, and made a 
hasty exit from the castle. 

Dr. Everemond prevented Griffith from following them, 
by main force holding him back. 

* * * * * 

The succeeding day the millionaire left “ Ravenwold,” 
swearing vengeance on the man who had unmasked his 
villainy and thwarted his plans in the hour of success. 

Summer glided away, and with the autumn frost came 
blight to the Powell’s household. 

The mortgage was foreclosed, and the property united 
to the estate of “Ravenwold,” while one misfortune fol- 
lowed closely upon another, and ere winter set in Robert 
Powell found himself a poor man. 

He removed his family to a small but comfortable 
abode, while he placed Allan in a law office from which 
he derived a meagre salary. 

Mrs. Powell assumed entire responsibility of the domi- 
cile, and Pyrrha secured a position in the choir of one of 
the leading churches at C . 

Robert Powell alone was idle ; his business had slipped 
through his fingers like water, and his accumulated mis- 
fortunes made him a complete wreck of his former self. 
Every effort resulted in failure, and he had become 
thoroughly disheartened, when one day a cheering letter 
came from a friend in New Mexico. During Powell’s 
prosperity, Frank Arnold had solicited the former to aid 
him in the purchase of a tract of mining land, which 
Powell generously consented to do, and then thought no 


i4 


PYRRHA : 


more of the matter until now, in his dire necessity. 
Arnold wrote that he had kept working away, and had 
finally struck a vein of gold which he predicted would 
yield a fortune. He offered Powell a half-interest — for 
it was to his benevolence that he owed it all — if he would 
come on and assist in working the claim. 

It is unnecessary to say that the despairing man seized 
upon this opportunity, and though it meant separation 
from his loved ones, he began at once to prepare for his 
long journey. 

Mrs. Powell was inconsolable when acquainted with 
her husband’s project, and Pyrrha reproached herself 
for her selfishness when she remembered that her hand 
might have saved her cherished father from this crisis. 
But when she recalled the ugly, malicious countenance, 
she shuddered, and doubted whether she could have 
taken so fatal a step even to save those she loved. 

The day of departure came all too quickly, and it was 
with an aching heart that Robert Powell bade Allan pro- 
tect and comfort the lonely women during his absence. 

He kissed the quivering lips of the girl, who tried to 
whisper a word of courage, and the tear-stained face of 
the faithful wife who clung to him with pitiful sobs, and 
lastly he turned to the boy, — who, just entering manhood, 
so needed a father’s honest advice, his firm yet loving 
control, — and once more he impressed upon him the im- 
portance of the solemn charge. 

To make the parting more ominous, a drizzling rain set 
in, accompanied by a cold, keen wind, which moaned like 
some lost spirit, — a fit companionship for the desolate man 
as he journeyed on, leaving behind him all he loved. 

Weeks elapsed, during which many a silent tear was 
shed for the absent one, who no longer occupied the 
favorite chair by the fireside ; but cheering letters com- 
forted their aching hearts with the hope of a speedy 
reunion. 

Spring came, with its buds and blossoms ; the birds 
flitted among the leafy boughs, sending forth their glad 
new songs, and the sun never shone brighter than on this 
fair May morn as Pyrrha seated herself before the piano, 
with hope in her heart, and a melodious- prayer on her 
lips. But the brightness of that fatal day cast an endless 
shadow of darkness over the little circle. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


*5 


A letter, addressed in a stranger’s chirography, was 
brought in by the postman, and as Pyrrha broke the seal, 
Mrs. Powell exclaimed: 

“ What is it, Pyrrha ? Great Heaven ! what has hap- 
pened ? ” 

The trembling lips of the girl refused to reply ; but a 
world of misery looked out from the wide open eyes, and 
she crushed the sheet of paper in her rigid hand. 

Frantic with suspense, the mother roughly shook her, 
exclaiming excitedly : 

“ Pyrrha, in mercy’s name, speak — speak ! ” 

“Mother,” the girl spoke almost fiercely, “what have 
we done ? Oh ! in what way have we offended the just 
God that He should send us this terrible affliction ? 
Mother ! mother ! Oh ! how can I tell you ! — you who 
loved him so ! but for my sake, for your children’s sake, 
be brave and strong in this bitter hour ” 

“ My husband ! ” gasped Mrs. Powell, 

“ We are fatherless — he — is dead ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 

Nearly three years have taken flight on the rapid 
wings of time since the Powells received the fatal letter 
which informed them of their irreparable loss. 

At the window of an humble dwelling, in an unpreten- 
tious but pleasant quarter of the town of C , sat a 

young girl listlessly gazing out from the depths of a great 
easy-chair, which almost enveloped her fragile form. 

The last rosy rimmed cloud, with a reflected glow, 
touched for a moment the pale cheek as with a tender, 
sympathetic kiss, revealing by its transient light the wan 
and wasted features of Pyrrha Powell. 

She turned from the window with a sigh, realizing that 
life’s joys were as fleeting as the gorgeous splendor of a 
summer sunset. 

Pyrrha had just recovered from an attack of scarlet 
fever, which was prevalent in the neighborhood ; and this 
was the first time her strength had enabled her to sit up 
the entire afternoon, to watch the Day fall asleep in the 
caressing arms of peaceful Night. 


i6 


PYRRHA : 


As she drew her chair toward the open fire that lit 
up the room with a cheerful glow, a figure, tall and com- 
manding, entered the apartment unobserved, and stood 
for a moment apparently in happy contemplation of the 
picture of loveliness there presented. 

The invalid did not hear his foot fall, for her mind was 
busy with its own thoughts. From out the gleaming em- 
bers in fancy gazed a pair of eyes that she had learned to 
love, despite her better judgment ; and, as if in answer 
to her own heart, she said aloud : “ I love you, but you 
shall never know it, Philip ; no, never ! ” 

There was a mournful pathos in the quietly spoken sen- 
tence, and a sorrowful shake of the curly head dislodged 
two glistening tears that hung upon the long lashes like 
gleaming pearls. 

“ Oh, but I do know, Pyrrha, and ” 

“ Dr. Everemond ! How could you — oh ! how could 
you ? ” interrupted the girl, starting to her feet in pain- 
ful confusion, and hiding her flushed face in her attenu- 
ated hands. 

“ Forgive me, Pyrrha, I had no intention to steal upon 
your meditations, but finding the door open, and catching 
a glimpse of your face with the fire-light playing upon it, 
I paused to study the magic effect. Do not hide your 
face, I have only heard what my heart told me long ago.” 

“ Oh, sir, forget what I uttered — forget it ! I was 
thinking, and — and I did not know that — that — Oh, I 
am so ashamed, so miserable that you have discovered 
my secret ! ” stammered the girl. 

Philip gently, but firmly, removed the weakly resisting 
fingers and forced his captive to look up at him. 

“ Pyrrha, if you but knew how happy your confession 
has made me, you would ” 

“ Oh, hush ! hush ! Do not speak so. Think of the 
sin of it ! If you but knew how I have fought against it, 
and how my earnest prayer has been for strength to live 
down this love ; to crush the heart that, despite all my 
efforts, strayed into forbidden realms, — you would pity 
and forgive me.” 

“ Forgive you for loving me, Pyrrha ? ” he asked. 

“Yes, yes ! for I have no right to cherish this emotion, 
which, from our first meeting, has been my secret idol ; 
and that I must always love you is my punishment. But 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


17 


you — you must forget the existence of my love, you must 
be true to her — true to your plighted vows. You frown ! 
Oh, do not betray the trusting faith of an innocent wife.” 

“ Innocent ! ” he scornfully echoed ; and then after a 
pause, while looking into the blue flames and, with an 
effort, controlling the agitation which her concluding 
words aroused, he drew a chair close to Pyrrha, and 
begged that she would hear his story. 

A heavy sigh, that was almost a groan, passed his lips ; 
then he leaned forward and spoke calmly. 

“ Pyrrha, I will not take you over the entire track of 
wasted years, buried youth, and shattered hopes. I will 
but touch lightly the skeleton that sits in my closet ; and 
from the ashes of my past you must glean sufficient to 
find an excuse that will plead in my behalf when I tell 
you that I love you. Ah ! I know I have, no right to 
utter it, yet it has been the one bright spot in my heart 
these many years. 

“ I think I can safely say that it was through no fault 
of mine that- the angel of peace deserted my hearthstone 
and left ruin in its place. I am forty, Pyrrha ; you see 
no longer young ; and the last fifteen years of my married 
life have been spent in loneliness, in bitter regret over 
the folly that bound me to a loveless woman, whose con- 
duct causes me the keenest humiliation. 

“ I had not been married a year when my eyes were 
opened to the fact that it was for my wealth, my social 
position, that Agnes Whitney linked her life with mine. 
Ah, Pyrrha ! What desolation filled my heart when I 
found her incapable of tenderness and depth of feeling ! 
My nights were passed in solitude — in yearning for the 
loving companionship of a wife and the sweet felicity of 
a home — while she spent hers at balls, parties, and the 
opera, her escorts being numerous, and of such a char- 
acter as to cause my friends to shrug their shoulders. 

“ I was grieved and shocked at her utter disregard 
of the proprieties becoming a wife, and expostulated, 
pleaded with her, but to no avail : her days she squan- 
dered in idle gossip away from home, and soon we 
became little more than strangers. Can you imagine my 
deep disappointment ? I had hoped to possess a true 
woman’s love, a gentle, helping hand ; one who would 
join me in cheering the sick and relieving the destitute. 

2 


i8 


PYRRHA : 


But, alas ! she ignored my wishes, and selfishly squan- 
dered the fortune that might have been employed in a 
noble cause. I thought seriously of a separation, but dis- 
covered in time the germs of consumption in her system ; 
and no man could turn a woman out upon the world in 
that condition of health. I believe she has not many 
years to live, and with her fast-fading beauty have gone 
her admirers, her flock of frivolous companions.” 

“ Oh, doctor, I cannot tell you how pained I am to 
learn all this ! You, whom I know to be so noble and 
generous, deserved a better fate. But I thank God that 
the erring woman fell into such Christian hands as yours. 
I know you are watching her tenderly, administering to 
her comfort, and soothing her pain ; and may Heaven 
grant that it will be the means of reforming her wayward 
heart ! Now, since the spell of worldly dissipation is 
broken, perhaps the proud, rebellious spirit may repent 
the lost years, and devote the remainder of her days to 
your happiness. Oh, she cannot help loving you now, 
and your dream may yet be realized ! ” 

Pyrrha spoke fervently, while a beautiful, holy light 
looked out from the shining eyes. 

“You do not understand, Pyrrha, that it is impossible 
for me to take her back to the heart she has trampled 
upon. She abused my confidence, disgraced my honor, 
dragged my name into the dust. There are some things 
we cannot forget or overlook. While she shall receive 
all possible care and attention, I could never feel the 
need of her devotion : that is all passed, and the shrine 
which once was hers is now given to one whom I deem 
the noblest of women. Can you guess who it is, Pyrrha ? ” 
And Dr. Everemond bent still closer as he asked the 
question. 

“ Oh, pity her ; forgive her ! She might have been led 
into temptation, and did not realize the sin of it,” pleaded 
Pyrrha. 

“ I do pity her, but she was no child ; I cannot for- 
give her. You, my darling ” 

“ Hush ! hush ! you forget the barrier. Think of her ; 
remember her suffering. Oh ! had I never betrayed my- 
self ! for I now feel that I have robbed her.” Pyrrha 
shook off his hand, and moved slowly toward the mantel. 

“ Do not chide yourself, Pyrrha. Had she been faith- 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


19 


ful, my heart would never have wandered from its duty. 
It was my loneliness which first made me long for your 
pure love, and now that I have the blessed knowledge of 
your holy devotion, I can be content to live.” 

As Philip Everemond ceased speaking, Pyrrha lit the 
small parlor lamp with its delicately tinted globe. He 
noticed how her hand trembled, and the hopeless expres- 
sion of the eyes that refused to meet his own. The light 
revealed the floor strewed with bits of bristol-board and 
drawing-materials, and his eyes caught sight of a roughly 
sketched picture which he instantly recognized as his 
own. He seized it with a cry of surprise. 

“ Oh, do not look at it ; it is only another sign of my 
great weakness,” she sobbed, as she was too late to re- 
cover the portrait. 

“ My picture,” he exclaimed in a glad voice ; “ where 
did you copy it from ? ” 

“ Memory,” she murmured. “ Throw it into the flames. 
Would to Heaven that I could so destroy the love which I 
have stolen from her.” 

“ Am I, then, so utterly unworthy ? ” he asked, sadly. 

“ Oh, no, no ; you are the only man whom I could 
ever love — the only one I deem deserving of an emotion 
such as I am capable of ; but it is the sin of it, and now 
that I know you love me, I feel — I feel as if it were my 
hand that is pushing her on to the grave ; my hand that 
is fastened about her throat, and crushing out the spark 
of life. Oh, it is horrible to think of.” 

“ Pyrrha, you speak wildly, you are feverish. This 
excitement has been too much for your weak condition. 
Sit down and drink this mixture ; it will calm your 
nerves.” 

While speaking, he filled a glass of water from the 
dainty pitcher, dropped into it a small quantity of bella- 
donna, and held it to her quivering lips. 

“ Oh, I am weak ! weak ! weak ! I would fain lay 
down my life to possess what she has prized so lightly. 
Do you know what it all means ? Philip, you must never 
come here again — never while she lives. And should she 
ask you to forgive her, for my sake — 0I1 ! for the sake of 
the first happy hours when you wooed her, grant her 
request.” 

“ If I forgive her, Pyrrha, it will be because you have 


20 


pyrrha: 


asked it. You are sublime in your noble tenderness, and 
I shall obey your slightest wish. But should the day 
ever dawn when I can come to you without a shadow of 
wrong, will you listen to all that fills my heart to over- 
flowing ? ” He waited anxiously for her reply. 

“ Will I ? Can you doubt it ? I will ; and oh, Philip ! 
with God’s help and blessing I’ll devote every thought, 
every hour to your happiness. But until that time — should 
it ever come — do not refer to this subject again ; let it be 
like a dream, which, if it is His will, may some day be 
realized.” 

Philip’s whole soul shone in his eyes as he listened to 
her hope-inspiring words. He seized her hands, and the 
magnetic influence rendered her powerless to resist ; his 
head bent lower, till the dark locks mingled with the 
sunny curls on her forehead ; his breath fanned her burn- 
ing cheeks, and a world of love looked into her splendid 
orbs. Another moment and his lips would have touched 
hers, but the girl recovered her self-possession, and said, 
almost fiercely : 

“ Philip ! ” 

He started back ; her voice, that quivered with intense 
emotion, aroused him to the full meaning of what he was 
about to do, and taking up his hat he murmured : 

“ Farewell ! Heaven protect and bless you.” 

He then left the house, carrying with him the con- 
sciousness of the sweet beauty of her character and the 
memory of a phantom kiss, while Pyrrha raised her 
wasted arms, and prayed for strength to bear the new 
burden of her unfortunate love. 

From that memorable night at “ Raven wold ” Pyrrha 
had admired his handsome countenance, which — excep- 
tionally fine as nature had made it — told a story of 
noble impulses and sympathetic habits of life that deeply 
impressed the girl, and, combined with his generous 
attention toward her sick mother the following year, 
planted the seed of a strong, unwavering, masterly love 
in her true heart. Although she struggled to overthrow 
the idol that had enthroned itself there, it laughed to 
scorn her futile attempts and defied dislodgement. She 
was conscious of the sin and misery which it entailed, 
and guarded it jealously, believing no one ever knew or 
guessed her heart’s secret. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


21 


Do not blame her, for she was a woman of a peculiar 
temperament. Intense in all her emotions, strong in her 
devotion, yet faithful to her duty. Then, love, the ruling 
passion of mankind, will hold its sway. It does not come 
at will, nor can we bid it go at pleasure when it has once 
embedded itself in a strong, loyal nature like hers. 

Some of us may be so constituted as to keep it dor- 
mant, while others engaged in active life may find relief 
in ambitious pursuits ; but even to these there are hours 
in the silent night when the glamour of fame and success 
grows dim, the voices of the applauding crowd are hushed, 
and it all seems but a faint echo in comparison with the 
voice that comes from the heart and cries out vehemently, 
demanding recognition, and will not be silenced. 

“ You may rouse your pride, you may use your reason, 

And seem for a space to slay love so ; 

But all in its own good time and season. 

It will rise and follow wherever you go.” 

Dr. Everemond’s visits ceased after his discovery ; and 
though he found it difficult to resist the temptation to 
call at the humble dwelling which sheltered the woman 
he so loved, so reverenced, he was strong in his resolve, 
deaf to his heart’s pleadings, which begged for just one 
glimpse of her face, one touch of her slim, white hand. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The attack of fever had deprived Pyrrha of her voice, 
and, in consequence, she had forfeited her position in the 
choir, and had also lost her pupils, who had increased in 
number until they had yielded a sufficient income to pro- 
vide for the comforts of their little household. 

This misfortune forced her to seek employment in a 
new direction, and the decorating of china suggested itself 
to her active mind. It proved a happy substitute, and 
though the profits were less remunerative the work was 
not so fatiguing. 

Allan, who had outgrown his desire to become a lawyer 
during his stay with “ Platt & Bro.,” solicited his employ- 
ers’ influence in obtaining a position at the “ Commer- 


22 


pyrrha: 


cial ” Bank, in which Mr. Platt was a stockholder. Owing 
to young Powell’s untarnished reputation and promising 
business qualities, he was successful, and eventually occu- 
pied the position of teller. 

Faithfully he executed his duties, both at the bank and 
at home ; but Satan, jealous of his irreproachable life, set 
about in finding means to tempt him, and the evil Spirit, 
understanding well his art, sent the tempter in the form of 
a woman. 

The little maid-servant whom Allan had thoughtfully 
engaged to assist his mother in the heavier work about 
the house, had spread the snowy table-cloth, and with her 
chubby fingers straightened out the tiny wrinkles, then 
nimbly brought forth the beautifully painted dinner dishes. 
The last plate was laid, the little nosegay of sweet-scented 
carnation pinks which Allan never failed to bring to his 
sister was placed in a crystal slipper at Pyrrha’s plate, and 
all was in readiness for the evening meal, when the door- 
bell rang loudly and a handsome girl dashed into the hall, 
greeting Mrs. Powell with a shower of kisses and a super- 
fluity of remarks. 

Pyrrha recognized her former school-mate, Mildred 
Elliott, and, leading her into the parlor, presented the 
heiress to Allan, with a sweet sisterly pride. 

“ And you never received my letter from Paris ? ” began 
Mildred. “ What a shame ! For it contained a graphic de- 
scription of our tour through Switzerland and the magnifi- 
cent splendor of Mont Blanc — we had the good fortune 
to see it for two days, the weather being beautiful and the 
air so dry and clear. And then the Jungfrau — oh ! you 
can have no conception of her icy beauty as the sunlight 
bathes her brow. Oh ! we have had a delightful trip, and 
I did so enjoy Italy, Rome, Naples, Venice, and Paris ! 
Pyrrha, I wished a thousand times that you could have 
been with us. You, with your fine artistic taste, would 
have appreciated it more than I did. And I told you in 
my letter — what a pity you did not get it ! — of Helena 
Harrison. You remember her, do you not ? Her father 
made a fortune out of soap, and all that sort of vulgar- 
ity, don’t you know ? Well, we met the family in Paris, 
and, would you believe it ? that girl has married an En- 
glishman of noble birth, quite handsome of face, and the 
possessor of vast estates. Think of it ! Some people are 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


2 3 


born under a lucky star. Why, I know papa would have 
given half his fortune had I succeeded in captivating 
some titled gentleman. Alas, poor me ! ” 

And with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, she sighed, 
and drew her gloves together in a knot. 

“ Never mind, Mildred. You will find some nobler 
man here in your own country,” said Pyrrha, with an 
encouraging smile. 

“ When did you arrive ? ” asked Mrs. Powell. 

“ Last T uesday. We are all stopping at the ‘ St. George,’ 
until papa can get our house in order. He is having 
it entirely renovated, and you must be the first to 
call. We have brought over a fine collection of bric-a- 
brac, and some rare pieces of art which will delight you, 
Pyrrha. Felix calls it all trash. By the way, he is ex- 
tremely anxious to meet you ; he quite fell in love with 
your picture, the one you had taken before we left 
Madame’s. He compared it to the Madonna that adorns 
the Church of St. Angelo, and I too # saw the resemblance. 

“ We are going to give a ‘ German,’ ” she continued, in 
her quick prattle as she turned to Allan ; “ and brother 
Felix desires in particular the pleasure of your and 
Pyrrha’s company, Mr. Powell.” 

As 'she concluded, she bestowed on the young man a 
bewitching smile which caused the blood to rush quickly 
to his face as he acquiesced, and he was quite bewildered 
when Pyrrha requested him to escort Miss Elliott to the 
dining-room. 

* * * * * 

Allan Powell and Felix Elliott became great chums from 
their first acquaintance at the “ German,” while Pyrrha 
took a strong dislike to the pale face, with the weak blue 
eyes, and selfish-looking mouth that was strongly marked 
by its owner’s mode of intemperate living. Even in Mil- 
dred, Pyrrha discovered new traits of character which 
were of an undesirable sort, and shocked the sensitive 
girl to such a degree that she ceased her visits at the 
Elliotts’ domicile, and sought to convince her brother that 
the rich man’s son was no fit companion for him. But 
it was too late : already the young man had tasted the 
nectar of dissipation, and the evenings which he had for- 
merly spent at home with his mother and sister were now 


24 


pyrrha: 


devoted to Mildred Elliott, or passed with her brother 
and other gilded youth about town. 

As the weeks lengthened into months, Pyrrha observed 
more than once that Allan’s bed had not been slept 
in, and that his breath smelt strongly of alcohol. The 
horrible reality forced itself upon her with crushing power, 
and she determined again to appeal to him. 

“ He loves me too dearly to disregard my counsel,” 
thought the girl, “and I am sure he will realize the peril 
of the path he is pursuing when I point out to him the 
dangers that await him on the cross-roads which lead to 

• 9 9 

ruin. 

After dinner, as Allan was about to go out, as had 
become his regular habit of late, Pyrrha said : 

“ One moment, brother, I have something to say to 
you ; please sit down.” 

He took a chair with ill-concealed impatience, while 
his sister went on in a hesitating, troubled voice : 

“ Allan, I have watched your career with a jealous eye 
and a heavy heart, ai?d realize that you have fallen into 
evil associations. Ah ! do not deny it, for you know what 
I am saying is only too true. Oh ! the pity of it. Your 
frequent absence from the breakfast table, your flushed 
face, and your nervous, restless manner, have alt con- 
vinced me of your reckless, intemperate life. Allan ! 
Allan ! why are you so changed toward us ? What fatal 
influence turned you from the steady, scrupulous boy you 
were before you met Felix Elliott ?” 

“ That will do,” interrupted Allan, flushed and angry. 
“ You are over-anxious about me, and treat me like a 
child who must be kept tied to your apron-strings. Be- 
cause you are prejudiced against Felix, you condemn 
him, and conjure up all sorts of evil misgivings ; because 
I have drank wine at his table you imagine I am going on 
a limited express to ruin. Truly, I feel flattered at the 
high opinion you have of me,” and he pulled savagely at 
his carefully curled mustache. 

“ Allan, you are angry now ; but if you will pause to 
think, you will see that they are dragging you down with 
them into a vortex of sin which means utter ruin to 
your ” 

“ Sister, this is humiliating, to say the least, and I can- 
not readily forgive you for it.” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


25 


He replaced his hat on the hall rack, and hurried up- 
stairs to his room, and did not leave it again that evening, 
nor did he absent himself from home, after this incident, 
for over a week. Pyrrha thanked God that her words 
had had such good effect. But even as she prayed, her 
brother again plunged into his old habits, and all hope of 
his reform forsook the despairing girl. 

In the mean time the “Commercial ” had changed hands 
— the stockholders disagreeing — the syndicate dissolved, 
and the property was sold by mutual consent, the purchaser 
being one man, and that man was no other than Ivan 
Griffith. 

The Second of February — a date never to be forgotten 
by Pyrrha Powell — a message came from the owner of the 
bank, a few hastily written lines Requesting Mrs. Powell’s 
immediate presence at the “ Commercial,” on a matter of 
the most vital importance. Mrs. Powell, nearly crazed 
with anxiety, fearing that some terrible misfortune had 
overtaken her boy, especially as he had not been at home 
the night before, hastened to obey the urgent summons. 

Pyrrha did not offer to go with her mother; she said* 
to herself, with a cold shudder : 

“ I shall know soon enough. I have a premonition 
that there is trouble at the bank. Heaven grant that I 
may be mistaken.” 

One, two, three hours elapsed before the poor mother 
returned, and then, in a half-dazed manner, she told the 
girl a story that chilled the very current in her veins, and 
made her future one vast pit of darkness, into which no 
light of hope could penetrate. 


% CHAPTER V. 

The wintry afternoon was on the wane when a pair of 
spirited horses attached to a victoria drew up before a 
little brick house, and a richly clad footman hastily assisted 
Ivan Griffith to alight. 

Glancing up at the window, he saw a white face framed 
in the soft lace curtains, and a cruel smile played about 
his mouth as he noted the despair depicted in the eyes 
that met his gaze. 


26 


PYRRHA : 


Impatiently he pulled the bell, and glared savagely at 
the girl who opened the door. 

“ She’s gone ! ” he muttered, on entering the tastefully 
furnished parlor. “ Does she expect to play me like this 
every time I call ? See here, girl,” turning to the little 
servant, “ I want to see Miss Powell ; I know she is at 
home ; tell her so, and that I demand an interview. Go ! ” 

“ Y-e-s, sir,” and the girl cowered back as he raised his 
stick to emphasize his command. 

“ Ain’t he a fiery one for ye ? ” said the girl under her 
breath as she went to inform her mistress of the visitor, 
who had called frequently during the past week. She 
found Mrs. Powell busy repotting some apple geraniums, 
looking very sad and pale. 

“ If you please, martft, that same fine gentleman is in 
the parlor again, and says as how he d’mands to see Miss 
Pyrrha. Lor’, ain’t he high-spirited, marm ? Why he raised 
his cane when I didn’t just fly when he told me ” 

“ Very well, I will tell Miss Pyrrha. You can finish 
this work. Carry the flowers to the East Room, as the sun 
♦is there the entire morning, and may revive those which 
have drooped,” interrupted Mrs. Powell in a nervous 
voice, while her hand trembled as she handed the flower- 
pot to the girl. Then she hastened to her daughter’s bed- 
chamber, whither Pyrrha had fled. She found her sitting 
on the edge of her pretty little bed, with head bowed, 
and her hands clasped before her. 

Pyrrha did not look up as her mother entered, but said 
in a hard, unnatural voice : 

“ I know what you have come to tell me, mother, but 
I cannot see him ; spare me the sight of his odious face 
as long as possible. Tell him I do not wish to speak 
with him again ; say that I am not well # Oh ! tell him 
anything — anything, but save me another interview.” 

“ But Pyrrha, my darling, you forget the importance of 
humoring him. He demands to see you, and Allan is 
not safe until ” 

“ I have sold myself and paid the debt,” interrupted 
the girl, bitterly. “ Oh, you need not refresh my memory ; 
for day and night I see it in flaming letters of fire that 
burn and torture my brain well-nigh to madness. Oh ! 
had I only died- before the idol we so cherished, so 
trusted, crumbled into dust.” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


27 


“ Pyrrha ! Pyrrha ! Do not be so severe with my poor 
boy. I am sure he was led into the sin, and needs more 
pity than censure. Remember how young he is ; how 
temgted he must have been, that his noble nature stooped 
to such an infamous act. Had his poor father only lived 
to direct him he would never have caused us a pang.” 

“ I warned him long ago ; had he only listened to me 
and shunned his depraved companions,” sobbed the girl, 
as Mrs. Powell continued : 

“ Would to Heaven that I had been called upon to 
sacrifice my life instead of your youth and future. I 
love him so completely, there is nothing I would hesi- 
tate to suffer in order to save him from the threatened 
penalty.” 

“ Forgive me, mother ! I am selfish, ungenerous, and 
at times I feel so fierce and bitter that I upbraid the 
Almighty for sending me this heavy cross.” 

“ My poor, poor girl ! ” 

“ Do not pity me, mother, for it only makes me 
weaker.” She tried to speak gently. “ I — I will see Mr. 
Griffith. I will learn what motive he has in hounding me 
so. Please tell him I will be down presently.” And she 
began bathing her tearful face in a bowl of cool water, 
as her mother sighed heavily and left the room. 

Pyrrha brushed her sunny curls, and donned a warm 
white gown which set off the spirituelle face to the best 
advantage. 

She stood before the mirror, fastened the lace fedora 
at her slender throat, while her eyes looked with pity at 
her own reflection, as she said : 

“ Ah, Pyrrha, you cannot escape the vulture that 
means to devour you. He has got you fast in his sharp 
talons, and ere long you will stand here, robed in your 
bridal dress, which must be your shroud ! You will hear 
the bells, that ring so joyously for others, toll your death- 
knell ! Ah ! I can see it all. What a mournful bridal ! 
No smiling groom, no blushing bride ; but a dark, savage, 
mocking face, and a pale, trembling girl dead to hope, 
to friends, to all the world, and Philip ! Oh, gracious 
God, is there no alternative ? Must I kneel at the altar 
with that unscrupulous wretch ? Must I perjure my soul 
by uttering a false vow ? Oh, Father, Father, save me 
from such fearful sacrilege ! ” 


28 


pyrrha: 


She threw herself upon her knees, raised her hands in 
passionate appeal, evoking aid from Him who rules our 
destiny. 

But when she arose from her lowly posture, all the 
misery of her terrible situation heaped itself with <frer- 
wlielming force upon her. 

“ Oh ! there is no help for me. Satan is standing by 
and mocking my wretchedness. I must marry my enemy ; 
I must call him husband — husband ? ” she fairly hissed. 
“ Oh ! I feel as if I should strangle the monster before 
that sacred name falls from my lips — ‘ Husband ! ’ ” She 
laughed aloud in her frenzy, — a chilling, derisive laugh, 
that rang mirthlessly through the hall. The door opened, 
and Mrs. Powell looked in. 

“ Pyrrha, be calm, be calm ! Mr. Griffith is in an 
angry mood, and threatens to expose Allan’s misdemeanor 
if you persist in provoking him. Oh, child, be careful 
how you deal with him ; do not vex him further, but try 
to soothe his vicious temper.” 

Despite all her efforts, a harsh laugh escaped the girl’s 
lips, and she said ironically : 

“ Perhaps you would like me to go down on my knees 
and beg forgiveness for not carrying out the entire pro- 
gramme of the bargain, and plead guilty to lack of fealty. 
But he would not understand homage, and I do not be- 
lieve you can melt a stone. Why do you tremble, mother ? 
Your idol is safe. Have I not pledged you my word ? ” 

The girl did not wait to hear the tender reply, but 
hurried down the stairs, only pausing at the parlor door 
to whisper, “ God help me ! ” 

The next moment she stood before the swarthy mil- 
lionaire, and both looked each other in the face, and both 
were silent. 

He, with gleaming eyes, feasting on the beauty of her 
face and form, as she stood against the rich red of the 
portiere curtains looking like some marble goddess. She, 
fascinated by the hideous countenance of the man, who 
in the future would own her, to whom she would be 
bound by chains of iron for life ! A long, quivering 
shudder passed through her frame, and then she man- 
aged to say : 

“ I am told that you wish to see me.” 

“ Well, I should say so. Is it not time that we stopped 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


2 9 


this hide-and-seek business, and did the thing as it should 
be done ? Am I to be betrothed, yet not to woo ? Am 
I not to pay court to the woman I shall wed ? ” 

“ Sir, only lovers wait upon each other in the manner 
you speak of. I am but the victim of barter, and any 
attention on your part would be repulsive to me. I 
realize how completely I am at your mercy, but under- 
stand, any attempt at love-making I will not tolerate.” 

“ Indeed ! Do you forget that I am saving your thief 
of a brother from a felon’s cell ?” 

She threw up her hands in mute appeal. 

“ No ! no ! no ! But the ransom is heavy. Are you 
not satisfied with the bargain ? ” 

“Yes; and no power on earth could change it, since 
you so dote on your scamp of a brother. But I want you 
to meet me in a vastly different manner. It appears that 
you are insensible to the honor I am doing you by con- 
descending to make you my wife.” 

“ Honor ! ” she echoed. “To me it is a terrible mis- 
fortune. Do you realize that you are about to take to 
your home a loveless wife ? That you are degrading your 
own nature in marrying a woman who does not even 
respect you, who shudders at sight of your face ? Can 
you find happiness in the thought that you have bought, 
through the sin of an ^rring man, the woman you would call 
wife, who should freely share your daily lot, rejoice with 
you in happiness, weep with you in sorrow, watch over 
you in sickness ? Had you considered all this when you de- 
manded my hand in exchange for my brother’s freedom ? ” 
“ Yes, something of that sort, though not so poetically, 
occurred to my mind.” 

“ And knowing that I can never, never love you, that I 
shall be wretchedly miserable in your house, that I can 
never fulfill the sacred duties of a wife — do you still per- 
sist in such an alliance ? ” She stood before him very 
lovely in her eloquent pleading ; but the stony heart did 
not relent, — he was thinking of what he had suffered the 
night he left “ Ravenwold,” years ago ; of his intense dis- 
appointment, his unfulfilled hopes, — and the hard lines 
about his sensual mouth grew sterner as the girl went on : 

“ Oh, sir ! hear me ! Think how we should violate the 
sacred law of marriage ! Heaven itself would pronounce 
a curse on such an act ! We should ” 


3 ° 


PYRRHA : 


“ Enough, enough ! ” shouted the dwarf, in a voice that 
startled the supplicating girl, and made her shrink from 
him in terror. “ Don’t preach to me, for I mean to marry 
you despite all the angels and devils in heaven and hell. 
Nothing can change my views on the subject, since good 
fortune placed you so completely in my grasp, and for 
this you must thank your devoted brother. A fine fellow, 
who will betray a trust, and then sacrifice a sister to save 
him. A fine fellow, I vow ! Ha, ha ! ” 

“ Father, in Thy mercy pity me ! ” broke from the girl’s 
white lips in a whisper of despair. 

“ Well, you cannot find an excuse for him, can you. 
my poor fluttering little bird ? ” He spoke tauntingly, and 
endeavored to pat the bowed head. But Pyrrha turned 
on him with gleaming eyes, and said passionately : 

“ Ivan Griffith, I regret that I have humbled myself to 
you ; that for one moment I was deluded into the hope 
that, perchance, you had a conscience. You are not 
human, but some hideous, black monster, wearing the 
shape of man ! Powerful because you are rich ; terrible 
because you have no soul — a very fiend incarnate ! Yet, 
I do not fear you. Notwithstanding I hate you so bit- 
terly that, were I less a Christian, I would kill you, I will 
adhere to the contract and marry you. And you shall 
place in my hands a written document declaring my 
brother innocent of the foul dee3 I believe you con- 
cocted, and, by some of your devilish craft, got Allan to 
commit. Ah ! you are bad enough for anything. Mark 
well what I say : until the fatal hour when I take your 
name, I refuse to see you on any pretext or occasion.” 
She moved toward the door, with a look of hate, scorn, 
and defiance, all blended in her glorious eyes. 

“ Am I to understand that you forbid my entering this 
house ? ” he asked in a voice of suppressed rage as he 
barred her egress. 

“ Understand whatever you please. You have heard 
my decision. If it does not suit you, do your worst ; I 
am now prepared to meet you on any grounds.” 

He looked incredulously at the young face, and it was 
hard for him to realize that its rigidly set features — white 
as alabaster, with drawn lips, contracted brows, and fierce, 
flashing eyes — belonged to the same person who had 
entered but a short time ago. He understood, as she 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


3 


gazed at him so fearlessly, that this' queenly young crea- 
ture was his match, and could not be curbed at will. 

“ Since you are determined that this should be our 
final interview while we remain in single blessedness, I can 
see no necessity for so hasty a departure. Here, I have 
brought with me the customary seal for such a compact, 
and have no doubt you will condescend to wear it for its 
value alone.” 

He had taken from its velvet case a superb ring, set 
with magnificent diamonds that represented a woman’s 
head, crowned with a wreath of writhing serpents, whose 
ruby eyes and fiery tongues gleamed as he held the costly 
trinket before her. 

“ You are mistaken in your estimate of my character,” 
she said, with burning scorn. “ Keep your vipers, I am 
fatally cursed with the dragon ! ” 

“ Dragon ! Aye, I have been appropriately named. 
But I warn you to be careful how you presume on my 
good-nature, else the winged serpent might set its fangs 
in your smooth, quivering flesh.” 

“ Your cowardice only equals your offensive ugliness ! 
Your threats do not alarm me : though I am your victim 
now, I shall ere long triumph over you.” 

She swept by him in cold dignity, leaving him standing 
in a stupefaction of doubt. 

Had he heard aright ? Did that slender, fragile thing 
dare to threaten him, the rich, the strong, whom all feared ? 
Had she, the woman so securely emmeshed in his power, 
the courage to refuse his gifts, and brand him as a 
coward ? 

He laughed aloud as he thought the girl did not under- 
stand his disposition. 

“ He to be mastered ? and by a woman ? ” 

Then, as each word that she had uttered dawned upon 
his intellect with its full meaning, he clenched his fists 
and set his teeth as he muttered : 

“You beggarly wretch ! You defy my power, call me 
monster , command me like a slave, and threaten to triumph 
over me ! Aha ! aha ! we shall see. You shall yet kneel 
at my feet and ask my pardon. And when I own you, 
I will treat you like my dogs, and lash you into obedience. 
Ha ! ha ! I will tame the fire in your eyes, bend that 
proud neck with my iron will or heel. Aye ! who will 


3 2 


PYRRHA : 


triumph ? I hold you in my vice-like grip, and who dare 
say I shall not keep you there ? ” The angry man shook 
his fist, seized his hat and cane, and hurried from the 
house, banging the door after him. 

In his blind rage he tripped, and would have fallen, as 
he was about to enter his carriage, had not his watchful 
servant caught him. 

“You fool ! get out of my way ! ” and he struck the 
faithful man a blow. 

“ Marsdon, drive me to the railroad station ; be quick 
about it ! stop for nothing.” 

Ivan Griffith settled back in his luxurious carriage and 
gave himself up to meditations of the future, when he 
should rule that delicate piece of womanhood, whose 
proud spirit he would delight in breaking. Occasionally 
the footman heard a savage oath, then a hoarse chuckle 
of satisfaction, as his grim master soothed his ruffled con- 
ceit with the glowing prospect of sweet revenge in the 
near future. 


CHAPTER VI. 

The entire household became alarmed at the strange 
apathy which seized upon Pyrrha after her interview with 
the owner of the “ Commercial ” Bank. 

Allan confided his grave apprehensions regarding his 
sister’s health to his friend, Mildred Elliott, although 
carefully concealing the cause, and forcing his own heart 
to believe that a change of air and scene was all that was 
necessary to bring back the rich bloom to the wasted 
cheeks, and the sparkle of health to the great shadowy 
eyes. 

Together they arranged apian that might induce her to 
go south for a few months, and it was with this project in 
view that Mildred arrayed herself in her newest gown 
and set out to call on Pyrrha, who, of late, had paid no 
attention to her numerous invitations. 

She found her busily engaged painting a spray of 
golden-rod on a delicate sky-blue vase, and as the fair 
artist leaned forward to touch the stem with a dash of 
sap-green, Mildred held her breath. A feeling akin to 
awe possessed her as she watched the white-robed, white- 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


33 


faced, hollow-eyed woman. What could have wrought 
such a sorrowful change in that young countenance in so 
brief a space of time ? Why was the mouth so set, the 
lips so tightly drawn, and what was the meaning of that 
hungry, woeful expression that stared from the heavily 
shaded eyes ? 

“ Pyrrha ! ” softly said Mildred, who expected to see 
the girl start with a glad cry of surprise, as was her former 
habit when taken unawares ; but Pyrrha merely turned 
her head and bent upon her visitor a searching glance as 
she said frigidly : 

“ Good morning ; I was not aware that any one had 
entered. Pray remove your wrap. This jar is a special 
order, and I have promised the firm that it should be 
completed by to-morrow, so you must pardon me for con- 
tinuing with my work.” 

“ Do not allow me to disturb you, Pyrrha,” replied 
Mildred, as she leaned closer to examine the work. “ It 
is very beautiful,” she continued ; “ but do you think this 
confining labor agrees with you ? I never saw any one so 
changed. You remind me of a beautiful lamp, perfect in 
form, but whose light has flickered away.” 

“ Truly, a strange comparison,” Pyrrha answered, with a 
chill smile. “ I admit, however, that my appearance calls 
for criticism. It may be my work, as you suggest, though 
it causes me no anxiety.” 

“ A change of scene is what I would advise, and I will 
tell you frankly that I came solely to solicit your company 
for a trip to Florida.” 

The visitor removed her costly cloak and jaunty hat, 
with its drooping plumes, quite indifferent to Pyrrha’s 
coolness. 

“ Thank you, Mildred. I certainly appreciate your 
kindness and the spirit that prompted you, but it is im- 
possible for me to leave C -.” 

“ I regret your obstinacy, as I had set my heart 
on having you go. My ample means permit of any 
indulgence, Pyrrha, so feel no hesitation on that ac- 
count.” 

“You are very generous,” returned the artist, “but I 
do not think a change of air expedient. As to your 
ample means, Mildred, there are numerous ways in which 
you can employ your surplus.” 


34 


PYRRHA : 


“ Oh, charity ! I assure you, my dear, that I have 
quite a number of beggars on my list, and you can have 
no conception of the annoyance they are. Only a few 
days ago, when I flattered myself that I had one family 
straightened out of its difficulties, and comfortable, an 
accident occurred which has kept me dancing attendance 
ever since. I suppose Allan has acquainted you with the 
entire affair, since the owner of the ‘ Commercial ’ caused 
it.” 

The brushes dropped to the carpet, while the artist 
replied : 

“ I — have heard nothing.” 

“ No ? Why, Allan must keep you poorly informed. 
It is quite the talk of the clubs — so Felix says — where 
Ivan Griffith frequents.” 

“ Is it serious ? ” and Pyrrha listened eagerly as Mildred 
went on to relate the circumstance. 

“ It is, for poor Mrs. Giles, who is a widow, and sick 
most of the time, which renders her quite unfit to do the 
plain sewing that I have obtained for her. So her little 
girl — an only child of twelve — was obliged to put her 
shoulder to the wheel — as Felix expresses it — and I man- 
aged to interest Mrs. Jackson in the child, and she finally 
employed her to assist the nurse and be companion to the 
children. Last Thursday they were playing in the park 
near their home, when a large dog chased the baby’s car- 
riage, and so alarmed Nettie that she seized the infant 
and started to cross the avenue. In her fright she did 
not observe a carriage which was approaching with great 
rapidity, and which struck her, throwing her to the ground 
and breaking her ankle. The baby escaped with a few 
scratches. The gentleman who picked up the injured 
girl said that the occupant of the carriage never stopped 
to inquire into the accident, but only laughed as some 
bystander shouted after him. He was followed to the 
railroad station, but had taken a train before he could be 
reached.” 

“ The heartless, abject wretch ! and I am to become 
his wife,” Pyrrha said to herself, while a bluish pallor 
crept from eye to chin. “ Where is the injured girl now ? ” 
she continued aloud. 

“ With her mother at their miserable abode in the 
‘ Tenement Row.’ I have looked after their wants, and 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


35 


even Mrs. Jackson called several times. It is remarkable 
with what fortitude the child bears her pain.” 

“ Will you give me their address ? I should like to call 
and see her when I carry my work to the Bazaar.” 

A strong, unaccountable desire prompted Pyrrha to 
visit the little sufferer. 

“ It is my duty,” she thought, while watching Mildred 
as the latter wrote the number on her gilt-edged card, 
“to try and soothe her pain; for was it not inflicted by 
my future partner, my hated foe, my tyrant ?” 

“ I am sure Mrs. Giles will appreciate your kindness, 
and you will find her a woman of refinement who has 
seen better days, and once knew the comforts of a happy 
home,” said Mildred, as she handed Pyrrha the bit of 
pasteboard. 

“ Do you see much of Allan now ? ” asked the artist, 
abruptly. 

“ Oh, yes ; he never fails to call during the evening, 
and when I am engaged, he usually goes out with Felix; 
they are great chums, you know.” 

“ Which I sincerely regret,” returned Pyrrha. 

“ Regret ? Pray what fault can you find with my 
brother ? I should like to understand the import of your 
remark,” said the heiress, with some show of anger. 

“ Your brother, I am told, is dissipated, reckless, and 
indulges extensively in card-playing,” was Pyrrha’s reply. 

“ Oh, indeed ! Well, if you consider Allan a saint, you 
should see him at the poker table. Felix told papa that 
he is the boldest player among his acquaintance.” 

“ And to whom does he owe his recklessness if not to 
your brother ? It was he who dragged him into the whirl- 
pool of wicked pleasures ; for Allan was innocent of all 
vice until he associated with Felix Elliott.” 

“ How dare you talk so, Pyrrha Powell ? ” exclaimed 
Mildred, in a burst of indignation. 

“ Dare ? Because it is the truth. You forget that you 
have repeatedly spoken of the anxiety he causes your 
family ; that your father lives in perpetual fear of being 
disgraced by his wayward son, and I think that you are 
much to blame by encouraging his weakness in entertain- 
ing your friends with poker parties. It is a bad custom, 
and a poor example for the ” 

“Oh, you weary me,” interrupted Mildred, impatiently. 


36 


PYRRHA : 


“ Do you suppose society will accept your views on the 
matter ? Are you going to dictate what should be, and 
what should not be ? ” 

Before Pyrrha could reply, a handsome young fellow 
entered, dressed in a jaunty travelling-suit, which fitted 
with precise accuracy his rather stout figure. 

“ Why, Cousin Guy ! When did you arrive ? ” 

“Only an hour ago, and I.have come direct here after 
stopping long enough at the hotel to engage my room. I 
beg your pardon,” as he caught sight of Mildred. “Be- 
lieving you alone, I came in unceremoniously,” said Guy 
Paulding apologetically as he dropped Pyrrha’s hands, 
which he had seized eagerly when he entered. 

“ Permit me to introduce you, Miss Elliott — my cousin, 
Mr. Paulding.” 

As they bowed to each other Mrs. Powell entered and 
greeted her nephew kindly, his mother, who had died a 
few years before, leaving Guy a snug fortune, being Mrs. 
Powell’s twin sister. 

Young Paulding had never been a favorite with the 
Powells, owing to his selfish, overbearing disposition ; and 
when he took a notion to fall passionately in love with his 
cousin Pyrrha, it quite severed the bonds of friendliness 
which had but partly existed between the families. Guy 
had spent several years abroad, and came back to Amer- 
ica solely to renew his offer of marriage. 

Mildred was asked to spend the day, which she readily 
consented to do ; and when Allan came home for dinner, 
he was surprised and angry to find his cousin entertain- 
ing the woman he loved. With a jealous gleam, Allan 
observed that the two had become very friendly, and that 
the petted child of fortune took keen delight in teasing 
and making him wretched. It gratified Mildred to see 
what influence she exerted over the gay young man, whose 
admiration flattered her vanity, but never touched her 
selfish heart. 

The years which Mildred had spent in Europe had 
transformed her from a sweet, trusting, lovable girl, int( 
a hard, cold woman, entirely worldly, and devoted to 
life of fashionable frivolity. 

When Allan rose to escort Mildred to her home, as tb 
hour of midnight drew near, Guy lingered, and, taking 
chair next to Pyrrha, said : 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


37 


“ Cousin, I have been watching you this evening, and 
find you much changed. You have scarcely spoken a 
dozen words, and there is a sad expression in your eyes 
which I cannot fathom.” 

‘‘Then I should not try, Cousin Guy,” she answered, 
keeping her eyes bent upon her embroidery, while Guy 
managed to secure one of the flowers that she wore in her 
belt. 

“ Pyrrha, the last time I saw you, you had just returned 
from a drive and had taken off your gloves, which you 
threw on the piano. Did you ever miss one ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Do you recognize this as the lost gauntlet ? ” 

He drew from his breast-pocket a small myrtle-green 
colored glove, and, laying it on his knee, he straightened 
out the crumpled kid, while a faint odor which awoke 
memories of happy bygone days crept from the stolen 
memento. 

“Yes, I recognize it perfectly, and well remember the 
search I made for it,” replied Pyrrha. 

“ I took it because you had worn it, because it was 
yours. Ah ! how many times I have kissed it while away. 
Oh ! let me speak,” — as Pyrrha made a gesture for him to 
cease, — “ let me tell you that I have cherished the hope 
of yet winning your love, your hand. Oh, consider well, 
my cousin, before you again refuse me ! You hold my 
very life in your hands. You can make me a good, 
worthy man, or wreck ” 

“ Please say no more, Guy ; it is most distressing to 
jne. I cannot love you, I cannot marry you, and when I 
refused you before I meant it to be final. I like you as a 
cousin, a friend, but there it must end.” She had seized 
her glove, and rose to leave the room. 

“ You are not going to take that from me ? Oh, do not 
be so unfeeling ! Let me retain that glove, it has been 
such a comfort to me.” 

“ No,” said the girl, decidedly. “You must conquer 
this foolish fancy. I may seem hard, but I cannot en- 
courage a sentiment I could never reciprocate.” 

Paulding sighed wearily, kissed the withered blossom, 
and, putting it safely away between the leaves of his 
memorandum-book, he took up his hat, and with a faint 
good-bye took his departure. 


3 « 


PYRRHA : 


Pyrrha resumed her work, while her mind was plunged 
into bitter reminiscences. 

“ God help you, Guy Paulding, to live down the love 
which could never arouse a kindred throb in my heart/' 
she murmured, as she blended the colored silks into the 
shape of a “love-lies-bleeding.” 

The clock on the mantel struck two ere she heard the 
latch-key click in the lock, and Allan entered. Seeing the 
light from beneath the parlor door, he looked in, and was 
amazed to find his sister still at work. 

“Come in, Allan, I have been waiting for you.” 

The young man hesitated a moment : for he had cau- 
tiously avoided any serious talk with his sister since the 
day she pledged her hand to save him from prison. 

Finally he took a chair, and silently watched, with a 
pang of remorse, the face — now drawn with pain — whose 
laughing beauty had been his pride in former days. 

“ I have long desired a private conversation with 
you, brother. I have hesitated to refer to a subject 
which ” 

“ I know what you would ask me, Pyrrha, what you 
have a right to know, and like the coward that I am, I 
shrink from telling you. Not until this moment, as I look 
you squarely in the face, have I realized that my guilt is 
killing you ; what a weak, unmanly fellow I have been in 
permitting you to bear the burden of my sin ! ” 

She looked up quickly. 

“ Are you, then, guilty of this charge ? Oh ! I had 
hoped, — though the evidence has been all against you, — I 
hoped that there was some terrible mistake, some proof 
that might yet clear you ; but you shatter that hope. Do 
you admit, then, that you are the culprit ? ” 

Allan hid his face to shut out the sight of that sorrowful 
face, with those eager, questioning eyes, as he answered : 

“ I am afraid so.” 

“Tell me all about that fatal night,” she said, after a 
pause. Her voice was commanding, and he began : 

“You will thoroughly despise me when you learn how 
low I have fallen.” Five minutes elapsed ere he con- 
tinued : 

“I am hopelessly in love with Mildred Elliott, have 
been ever since I first saw her bewitching face, and this 
strange passion has been the cause of my dissipation. In 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


39 


my position it was impossible for me to marry her, for I 
could never hope to get a home with the small salary I 
command ; I grew desperate, and when Felix enticed me 
to play cards, I fancied, as I saw him win large stakes, 
that an opportunity presented itself by which I might 
eventually succeed in gaining my desires. And to tell 
you the truth, I deliberately set to gambling. With my 
first ill-gotten gains I purchased a bracelet for Mildred, 
and the gift seemed to gain for me a warmer regard. 
This set me thinking of the next token I should get her. 
I only thought of pleasing her, of winning her love. At 
times I was in a delirium of joy by reason of her pref- 
erence, then again driven to despair by her utter indiffer- 
ence. It drove me deeper into dissipation, and with my 
evil associates I often spent the whole night at the gaming 
table, generally winning. To this vice I added drink — 
you have observed it — and while under its influence, I 
know not what folly I may have committed.” 

“ Oh, brother, brother, the shame of it ! 

“ It is horrible ! horrible ! Great God ! as I tell you 
of it, I wonder what fiend possessed me that led me from 
my honest life.” 

“ That insane infatuation for Mildred Elliott, who 
delights in the ruin she has accomplished. Allan, that 
woman is incapable of returning your affection. Oh, 
cast her from your heart ! Forget her existence.” 

“ Would to Heaven that I could ! But life without 
her seems impossible. It was the fear of losing her that 
resigned me to the sacrifice you were called upon to 
make in my behalf. I recognized how fatal would be the 
exposure of the robbery, to my hope of one day calling 
her wife.” 

“ Why did you not think of that before you committed 
such an unworthy deed ? Did you rob the safe hoping to 
purchase a home with your stolen gold ? Did you antici- 
pate a happy honeymoon with the stain of a crime upon 
your head ” 

“ No ! no ! ” he interrupted hoarsely. “ Heaven for- 
bid ! I was not conscious of the act until accused by 
Ivan Griffith and the marked bank-notes were found in 
my possession. The day previous, I, for the first time, 
did not report at the bank. I drank freely, and in the 
evening — in company with Felix Elliott — visited the old 


40 


PYRRHA : 


haunts, and gambled desperately. I played recklessly, 
nor did I stop until I was deeply in debt. 

“I have a faint recollection of leaving the saloon in a 
frenzy at my ill luck, and of wandering alone about the 
place. I remember nothing further until the morning sun- 
shine awoke me from a long dreamless sleep. I tried to 
recollect how I had got to that strange bed, but my mind 
was all a blank. I arose, began to arrange my toilet, 
when a large roll of bills fell from my pocket. I was 
amazed, frightened as I counted it — just ten thousand 
dollars ! I was unable to account for it, but finally 
concluded that I had won it the night before. I inquired 
of the proprietor of the hotel how I had got to his house, 
and he said, ‘You walked, or rather staggered in, so 
intoxicated that you could not speak.’ They gave me a 
room, they said, because my appearance warranted them 
payment for the same. 

“ I left the place in a dazed manner, almost afraid of my 
good luck. I did not notice that I was being followed, 
but stopped at Felix’s office, and paid a considerable 
sum I had borrowed of him. He was dumb with amaze- 
ment when I told him what must have happened after I 
left him, and congratulated my expert playing. 

“ Then I hastened to a jeweller’s and selected a dia 
mond ring for Mildred. As I was about to leave the 
store a hand was laid on my shoulder, and I was horri- 
fied when the man showed me his shield. He said I 
was wanted at the ‘ Commercial ’ at once, and asked if I 
would go with him quietly. The situation dawned upon 
my confused mind in a vague manner, and I realized that 
I had been arrested ! I was taken to the private office, 
where — grim and unrelenting — sat Griffith. He fairly 
gloated over my humiliation. 

“ The money was taken from me, and it corresponded 
with the other packages in the safe, all of which had been 
peculiarly marked for some unexplained reason. 

“ I protested my innocence, but was unable to account 
for my whereabouts after I quitted Felix. The watch- 
man was then summoned, and he identified me as the man 
he saw quit the bank at a quarter of three o’clock in the 
morning. He said he tried to follow me, but that he 
slipped on the marble steps, striking his head, wdiich he 
so injured as to render him insensible for a time. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


4T 


“Mr. Griffith informed me that the matter had been 
kept quiet, and would be so until he sa*w my mother. I 
shall never forget that scene, Pyrrha; poor, poor mother! 
how she wept and wrung her hands when she knew all ; 
how she implored me to tell her it was not true, that I 
was innocent of the crime ! 

“ I could not answer her ; I stood sullen, frightened, 
and still dazed from the effects of my debauch, while she 
pleaded with that iron monster to save her erring son 
from a felon’s cell. 

“ After enjoying her anguish and my shame to his bad 
heart’s content, he promised that only on one condition 
would he consider the matter, — on one condition save us 
from disgrace. Shall I ever forget the despairing wail 
that escaped mother’s lips when he demanded her daugh- 
ter’s hand as the price of my freedom ?” 

The unhappy young man paused : tears were choking 
his utterance as the scene recurred to his mind with a 
vividness and misery that had failed to impress his stupe- 
fied faculties at the time. 

Only a dry sob shook Pyrrha’s frame ; but as her 
brother went on a suspicious mist gathered in her sad 
yet beautiful eye?. 

“ I know how you hate and fear him, and this marriage 
must prove fatal to your future ; for notwithstanding his 
wealth, your days spent in his loathsome presence would 
be freighted with a keener torture than I should experience 
were I to pass mine at prison labor, shut out from the 
world. I want you to try and forgive me, sister, for the 
misery and pain I have inflicted on you ; and as it is not 
yet too late, let me pay the penalty of my wild career, 
and reap the just punishment for my sin.'’ 

“ No ! no ! no ! ” gasped Pyrrha, brokenly. 

“ But, sister, I should never forgive myself if I allowed 
you to sacrifice yourself, now that I realize the awful situ- 
ation which the step imports. I have not been worthy of 
such devotion. Oh, Pyrrha, I will not break your heart ! 
Be the Pyrrha of old, the sunbeam that you were before 
my crime bound you to that demon of a man, and I will 
cheerfully go to my doom.” 

“Allan, I am thankful that you are not alt hardened, 
and fain would spare me ; but that cannot be. It would 
break mother’s heart to have her son .become a convict, 


42 


pyrrha: 


and my dead father would rise up before me in sorrowful 
reproach at my broken promise. No, no, Allan, I know 
how mother idolizes you ; how she pleaded with me, on 
that memorable day, to save her poor boy — for I was 
loath to sacrifice myself. Then, bitter as I feel, I have 
not the heart to send you to such a fate, among depraved 
creatures, who would be your daily companions. Oh, no ! 
I will adhere to the contract, and marry Ivan Griffith on 
the second of April, as specified.” 

She sighed heavily, then rose, and, laying her attenu- 
ated hand on his shoulder, looked straight into his brown 
eyes, whose brightness was dimmed with tears. 

“ Allan,” she continued, “ we must think now only of 
mother, whose welfare was intrusted to us by our dead 
father. I will not complain hereafter if my marriage 
shall prove your salvation. Promise me solemnly that 
you will shun your former companions, the gambling 
table, and the wine-cup. Be a dutiful son, a noble, hon- 
orable man as your father was. Let the fruit of my suf- 
fering be the redemption of your soul, the means of res- 
cuing you from evil.” 

She ceased, and stood breathless, her face full of eager, 
anxious suspense, fearful lest the beloved brother whom 
she sought to redeem should fail her. 

“ I accept the inevitable for mother’s sake — and you, 
my noble sister, my good angel, I promise, nay I pledge 
you my solemn word to lead a purer life, and so long as I 
live never to touch another drop of liquor ! ” 

With a quivering cry of joy, the girl threw her arms 
around her brother’s neck, while the frozen fountain of 
tears melted into a flood of weeping. 


CHAPTER VII. 

“To die for what we love ! Oh ! there is power 
In the true heart, and pride, and joy, for this : 

It is to live without the vanished light 
That strength is needed.” 

A handsome Queen Anne cottage surrounded by 
ample grounds occupied a favorable site on one of the 
fashionable avenues of C . A beautifully trimmed 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


43 


hedge of osage orange inclosed the place, and a pro- 
fusion of ivy grew about the house, creeping on to the 
turret roof and clinging tenaciously to the tall red-brick 
chimneys. 

In one of the stained-glass windows hung the sign, 
“ Dr. Philip Everemond,” and on entering this portion of 
the dwelling it was found to be an extremely artistic 
retreat. 

In the place of doors hung rich silken drapery with 
borders wrought in fine gold thread, and fringed heavily 
with the same. A crimson divan stood against a back- 
ground of palms and ferns, and Eros, the winged god 
of love, carved in polished white marble, rested on a 
black stone pedestal, while just opposite was the radiant 
form of Psyche with her pitcher, that Aphrodite com- 
manded her to fill with the black water which flowed into 
the Lower World. The expression of fear and despair 
was wonderfully depicted in the chiselled face. 

Rich carpets, strewed with rugs, covered the floor : 
while near one of the windows stood a massive desk of 
carved oak, and in the cushioned chair before it sat the 
physician. An expression of restless anxiety clouded his 
usually placid brow. 

A dozen powders were before him unfolded, while sev- 
eral vials of medicine remained uncorked. 

He abruptly left his work to gaze upon a picture which 
stood before him on a small silver easel. Looking into 
the eloquent eyes he murmured : 

“ Soon I shall come to you, my darling ; soon I will tell 
you what you forbade my uttering almost a year ago. 
And you will place that dear hand in mine, and listen to 
my honest love. Will you not ? ” 

He fancied he saw the lips smile, and he closed his 
eyes as memory took him back to that early spring twi- 
light when she had softly spoken what his heart had so 
hungered to hear. Again he felt the touch of her soft, 
cold, snowy fingers that had thrilled his palms ; and the 
atmosphere became redolent with the odor of violets 
which she had worn at her fair throat. A great wave of 
joy swept over the strong man’s heart as he thought of 
their speedy meeting. 

He would go to her in May — sunny, blue-eyed May — 
and ask her to be his own darling wife. Surely, she 


44 


PYRRHA : 


would not deem him disrespectful to the memory of the 
dead — the wife whom during the Indian summer he had 
laid to rest beneath moss and marble. 

The rustle of a woman’s dress and the sharp, impatient 
voice of Martha, his cousin, broke upon Philip’s tender 
reverie. 

“Well, I declare! if you are not indulging in day 
dreams again. You have quite lost your head over that 
picture, Philip Everemond. I should have thought that 
one dose would have cured all the sentiment in your 
nature. Oh, you men ! you are all alike, and for the sake 
of a pretty woman would risk your heads between the 
jaws of a lion. Be sensible, listen to good advice : do 
not hazard your peace for another bitter experience. 
Look at yourself in yonder mirror, and see if that face, 
with its lines of age and care, and gray hairs, is a fit mate 
for the youthful possessor of this lovely countenance.” 
She rapped the picture with her clenched wrinkled hand, 
and continued: 

“ Abandon such folly ; it will be like winter wedding 
spring, and two such natures could never harmonize.” 

Philip turned to his cousin with a smile, saying gently, 
as he began doing up the powders : 

“ Martha, how can you properly advise on a subject you 
know nothing of ? Love has never stirred your ” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! Don’t talk such nonsense to me. Did 
she love you ? ” 

“ Hush ! ” he said sternly. “ Let the dead rest.” 

“ Oh, I have no desire to do otherwise, for I enjoy my 
peace too well. But let it be a warning for you to keep 
free of matrimonial meshes. Shun young women, for they 
will only marry you for your money and social posi- 
tion.” 

And Martha Russell looked sage and grave. 

“ Martha, do not allow my affairs to annoy you. I am 
quite capable of looking after myself, though I am ten 
years your junior. I assure you that when 1 bring home 
another wife, you will have no cause to complain of her 
loyalty, her noble, true womanhood. Oh, who could 
help loving my sad-eyed, pale-faced Pyrrha ? ” And he 
stole another yearning look at the picture. 

“ Humph! ” ejaculated the spinster, “ all very fine, but 
I reckon if you get her, she will lead you many a wild dance. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


45 


Remember, whatever happens, that I, Martha Russell, gave 
you fair warning.” 

Philip did not reply, but looking at his watch rose 
abruptly. 

“ I must be off at once. Please tell Carl to put the 
pony to the carriage ; and that basket of provisions I had 
Stevens send up last night — he can place under the seat. 
I wish, Martha, that you could spare some calf’s-foot jelly.” 

“ For whom, pray ?” asked the woman sharply. 

“ For Mrs. Giles, the mother of that unfortunate child 
who was run over last week.” 

Martha paused in her dusting, and eyed her cousin 
suspiciously, watching him keenly as she asked : 

“ Has she, too, been run over ? ” 

“ She is an invalid, and they are in destitute circum- 
stances, and I mean to see that they are supplied with the 
necessities of life.” As he spoke a tear glittered in his 
kindly blue eyes. 

“ Bless me, cousin ; I believe your entire patronage con- 
sists of beggars, and their like. It seems time that you 
dropped some of this wretched sort, and began looking 
after your income. How long do you reckon your father’s 
fortune is to last at this rate ? ” 

“ I never considered the question. So long as I have 
a dollar I will gladly share it with those in need. Could 
you see the misery that fills the homes of my poor 
patients, your heart would melt with pity.” 

“ I am not so easily given to pity, Philip, it never ran 
in the Russells’ blood ; and it’s my opinion that folks with 
limited means should remain single, and not bring into 
this world of misery large families, for tender-hearted 
strangers to support.” 

“ Oh, Martha,” he rejoined with a laugh, “ I am glad 
they are not all of your opinion. Think of the crabbed, 
forlorn bachelors, the prim, sour maidens, the ” 

“ Better an old bachelor than a miserable, neglected 
husband ; better an old maid than a sorrowing mother 
with a brood of needy, suffering children, who either go to 
an early grave or to a prison.” 

“ Cousin, you have become heretical on the subject of 
marriage. Yet I believe Mason Peake can analyze the 
matter satisfactorily, and change your morbid views. By 
the way, how is he progressing ? ” 


46 


PYRRHA : 


Martha flew from the room in a perfect tempest ; but 
Sarah, the maid of all work, wondered why Miss Martha 
was in such unusual good humor. 

An hour later, Dr. Everemond’s carriage stopped before 
a gloomy, smoky tenement-house, and the physician hur- 
ried up the several flights of rickety stairs, while Carl fol- 
lowed with a basket, which the severe-spoken little lady 
had generously filled, including a large jar of jelly. The 
atmosphere was heavy, close and musty, and Philip was 
obliged to feel his way along the dark, narrow passage. 
Carl set the basket at the door, and returned to the car- 
riage, while the physician, without knocking, turned the 
knob and entered. He did not utter his usual cheery 
greeting, for a sight met his eyes that sent the heart’s 
blood bounding to his cheeks with a rosy flush. 

A black-robed figure, with a pale, hopeless face, sat 
near the iron cot holding the sick child’s hand in her own 
black-gloved palm, while an open book, resting on her 
lap, told that she had been reading. A few illustrated 
fairy-tales and a bunch of pink roses lay upon the snowy 
coverlid. Mrs. Giles sat near, wrapped in a scanty plaid 
shawl, coughing incessantly. 

“ Oh, doctor ! doctor ! ” exclaimed the child ; “ I’m so 
glad that you have come.” 

He did not hear her ; it was Pyrrha’s voice that he was 
listening for, — Pyrrha’s changed countenance that filled 
his heart with keen apprehensions. 

“ I never expected to meet you here,” he said, taking 
her hand between his own and holding it tenderly. 

“ Nor did I surmise that you were attending this poor 
child,” she replied with a sudden wave of color. 

He noticed her embarrassment, attributing it to sur- 
prise and the presence of others ; he looked at her — his 
intelligent, benevolent face illuminated with one of his 
rare, fascinating smiles, that thrilled her heart — then 
said : 

“ This is an unexpected pleasure.” 

“ Oh, doctor, I am so glad you know Miss Powell.” 

“And why, pray?” asked the physician, turning his 
attention to the care of his little patient. 

“ Because she is so kind and gentle,” whispered the 
child. While Dr. Everemond was engaged in mixing the 
medicine, and counting the girl’s pulse, Pyrrha went into 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


47 


the adjoining room, whither she beckoned Mrs. Giles, 
and began putting on her hat and wrap. She wanted to 
escape from Philip’s presence, for she felt that she could 
not endure a protracted interview. She knew from his 
manner that he had heard nothing of her approaching 
marriage, and she believed herself incapable of the task 
of telling him. Duty told her to fly, and she tried to 
obey its promptings. 

Philip appeared in the doorway, and said firmly : 

“ Pyrrha, I will take you home in my carriage.” 

“But I prefer to ” 

“ Hush, for I will not hear of a refusal. I want to ask 
a few questions regarding your own health.” 

Then, turning to Mrs. Giles, he continued : 

“ Nettie is doing nicely, and she will soon be about 
again. I left a powder for your cough, and you will 
receive a load of coal this afternoon, which will enable 
you to keep a fire day and night. I trust you will relish 
the jelly my cousin sent.” 

Pyrrha did not wait to hear the words of gratitude 
which the poor woman offered the generous-hearted man, 
but hurried to say good-bye to the child. 

“ I am so glad you have come back to say good-bye, I 
thought you had forgotten me,” said the little patient. 
“ Will you come soon again and finish reading that chap- 
ter of unhappy Undine ? I am so thankful to you, and 
to my doctor. Ah! isn’t he good ? Mamma says, ‘He is 
one of God’s noblemen.' I try very hard to tell him how 
grateful I am ; but I know so little, and cannot find words 
to make him understand me. Won’t you please tell him 
that I pray for him every night ; that I ask God to bless 
him, and send him, oh, such happiness?” 

“You had better tell him, Nettie ; he will think more 
of it to hear it from your lips.” 

“ Oh, no ! He will listen to you, and you can say it 
in such a pretty way. Oh, please do tell him for me,” 
pleaded the child. 

“ Very well, Nettie ; if it will make you happier, I will. 
Be cheerful, and hurry and get well, I will call at every 
opportunity. Tell me, does your doctor always come in 
the mornings ? ” 

“Yes, ma’am; and you will come too, for he likes you 
better than anything else. I saw it in his eyes.” 


4 8 


PYRRHA : 


“ Hush, child ! read your books, and try to amuse 
yourself. Good-bye,” and she smoothed the tangled mass 
of blue-black hair from the polished forehead ; kissed the 
hot, fevered brow, and then joined Philip. 

Together they left the dingy, cheerless rooms, and hand 
in hand hurried along the hall, down the narrow flights of 
stairs, and out into the sweet pure air. Carl stared hard 
at the elegant figure, and wondered if such beauty was 
pent up in that dilapidated building. 

As they reached the carriage Pyrrha said, hesitatingly : 

“Doctor, I — I prefer to walk.” 

“I could not permit such a thing. You are not strong, 
and the wind is keen.” Without further resistance she 
allowed him to assist her into the coupe. Dr. Evere- 
mond gave Carl the direction, then seated himself beside 
the woman he so madly loved. 

For the first time she observed that he wore mourning, 
and as she glanced at the deep band of crepe which encir- 
cled his hat, a sense of suffocation came over her as she 
conjectured the cause. 

He put his arm about her, and attempted to draw her 
trembling form to his breast, but she shrank from him, 
saying : 

“ Do not touch me, Philip, I am trying to be strong ; be 
merciful and help me.” 

“ Ah, Pyrrha, no need for that now. Do you not know 
that I am free — free to speak, and tell you of my love ? 
Ah, there is no sin in loving you now, my silver lily, my 
pearl ; for death has snapped all fetters, and our dream of 
happiness can be realized. How I longed to come to you, 
and claim this hand which has been mine for these many 
years ; but I did not want you to think me unconscious of 
what was due her and society. Oh, I have been all eager- 
ness, all impatience to tell you how dear you are to me ; 
how proud I am of you, my precious love, my Pyrrha ; 
and that nothing on earth shall ever part us.” 

A strange mist crept before his eyes, and he did not 
notice the anguish, the heart-broken look that shot from 
under the long lashes which nearly swept the marble 
cheek as she said : 

“ Say — no more — now, I cannot — endure it.” 

“ Ah, you are not well. You have suffered during our 
separation, and this sudden happiness is too much for 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


49 


you. I should have been less abrupt. There, I will say 
no more, only let me hold you close, my darling.” 

She struggled faintly ; but his arms were so strong, and 
she lay back against his shoulder with an inward groan, 
as he failed to understand her remark. 

Soon the carriage drew up before her home, and Philip 
fairly lifted the girl from the coupe. 

She clung to his arm for support ; for her limbs trem- 
bled violently, and a noise like the roar of the ocean filled 
her ears. As they reached the vestibule she swayed to 
and fro, and the next instant lay in his arms unconscious. 

Mrs. Powell gave a cry of alarm as she opened the door, 
for the colorless face with the closed eyes looked more 
like that of the Angel of Death than a living woman. 

Philip carried her into the back parlor, and soon their 
efforts were rewarded with a faint tremor of the eyelids 
and a low sigh. He listened to the beating of her heart, 
and a troubled expression overspread his countenance. 

“ Has she had an attack like this before, Mrs. Powell ? ” 
he asked. 

“Yes, once before,” replied the frightened mother, 
chafing the icy hands; “ and she has complained of severe 
pain at her heart, and faintness. I wanted to send for 
you, but she would not permit it.” 

“ I am afraid there is some serious difficulty,” answered 
the physician. “ Has she had anything to disturb and 
worry her of late ? I noticed she looked paler and thinner 
than I have ever seen her as she sat by Nettie Giles’s 
bedside.” 

Mrs. Powell started, grew confused, and he wondered 
at her emotion ; but Pyrrha opened her eyes, and the 
mother left the room before he could repeat his question. 

“ My poor darling, you have been overtaxing your 
strength. In the future I shall permit no more painting, 
needlework, or music. You shall keep very quiet, and 
grow strong and happy in the sunshine of your husband’s 
love. Ah, Pyrrha, I cannot thank God sufficiently for 
the blissful future we shall share together.” 

Pyrrha, unable to listen longer, arose and walked about, 
while sighs, which sobbed themselves into groans, escaped 
her lips. 

“ How strangely you appear ! You do not speak, Pyr- 
rha. What is the meaning of this ” 

4 


5 ° 


PYRRHA : 


“ Oh ! you have come too late, too late ! ” she inter- 
rupted in a burst of anguish, as she ran her fingers through 
her damp curls and across her hot, aching brow, as if to 
ease that terrible pain. 

“ I — I do not understand. Have you ceased to — to 
love me ? Are you not going to be my wife ? How have 
I offended you ? ” he pleaded, trembling with emotion, 
anxious yet dreading to hear her answer. 

“ Not that — not that ! Oh ! how can I tell you, Philip ? 
how can I say that which will blight your hope of hap- 
piness ? the thought of which is like a knife piercing my 
heart, for our dream of love is gone ! gone ! it is dead, bur- 
ied in a narrow grave, where, please God, I shall soon be. 

“ The golden promise of our future is but mockery ! 
Our lives are divided by a great gulf. Oh, Philip ! 
Philip ! I would have spared you this pain, but you 
force me to tell ; and then it is as well, for sooner or later 
you will learn the truth.” 

“ Pyrrha, you no longer love me. You grew tired wait- 
ing so long. I cannot blame you, for it was all wrong to 
expect you to give up your youth ” 

“You do me great injustice,” she interrupted, “for I 
never loved you better. You are my idol ; all my hopes 
of earthly happiness were centred in you, Philip. Day 
and night I dreamed of you, and every waking thought 
was loyal to the idol which sat supreme in my heart. 

“ What cherished dreams I nursed ; what a cloudless 
life I mapped out for our future, should fate decree me 
your blessed companionship. Alas ! the day has come, 
but too late ! There is left only the ashes of hope, ruin 
and despair.” 

“ Pyrrha, for Heaven’s sake, tell me what does this 
mean ? ” 

“ It means that the dead can triumph even in the grave ; 
it means that she is avenged for the wrong I did her in 
winning your love while she alone had a just claim to it ; 

it means that I cannot marry you because — because 

Oh ! how can I tell you, Philip ? How can I give you 
up, when my heart has yearned for you so long ? Oh, 
Heaven, how I have suffered for the sin of loving you ! My 
sleepless nights, the weary days of separation ; the jealous 
pangs that gnawed to the very core of my tortured heart ; 
the uncontrollable desire for the sound of your voice, the 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


5 * 


touch of your hand, the sight of your face ! Ah ! ah ! 
who will ever know what I have endured ? and yet I must 
renounce you, for I am bound to that loathsome piece of 
humanity, the wretch who insulted me and ruined my 
father, the man they all fear, the one they call — Ivan 
Griffith ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Is that not an honor ? should I 
not cry it about the streets in exultation ? proclaim it to 
the world ? laugh, feast, and be merry ? ” 

Her voice rose from low, soft, quivering pathos, to a 
shrill hysterical shriek, and her eyes were wild, and glit- 
tered dangerously, while her hands opened and closed, 
as if strangling something in their grasp. 

Philip was frightened, and, much as her avowal meant, 
he forgot his pain and thought only of calming her excited 
mind, realizing how fatal it might prove in the present 
condition of her health. 

“ Poor child, calm yourself. Sit here by me and tell 
me quietly what strange circumstance compels you to 
marry a man you despise, who is not fit to breathe the 
same air with you ; whose touch is pollution ; whose prof- 
ligacy is to many an open book.” 

“ I — I cannot tell you. Philip, the secret is locked in 
the remotest chamber of my heart, where no eye can pen- 
etrate, where no hand can lift the veil that shrouds the 
corpse of my happiness. I can only say it is fate, cruel, 
unrelenting fate.” 

“ Pyrrha, confide in me. I am older, and can advise, 
assist, perhaps remove the difficulty. Leave it to my judg- 
ment whether it is right that you should sacrifice our hap- 
piness.” 

“ Impossible ! utterly impossible ! ” she groaned, while 
pacing to and fro with hands clasped behind her head. 
“ Nothing can prevent the marriage, nothing but — death. 
Death ? No ! not even that could help me. Ah, Philip, 
go, forget me ; seek another who will cheer your home 
and fill your heart with music, and let my image sink into 
oblivion.” 

She shivered like one struck suddenly by an icy blast ; 
and he took up a soft blue shawl that hung over the back 
of a chair, and tenderly wrapped it about the shapely 
shoulders. 

As his fingers came in contact with the silken curls, a 
thrill of exquisite emotion shot through his frame. Then 


5 2 


PYRRHA : 


the realization that he must give her up, — she whom he so 
adored, who had been his bright star of hope through the 
years of suffering, — that she could never be his own, but 
ere long would be the wife of one so low, so utterly 
unworthy, overpowered him ; his strong will broke like a 
reed before a storm, and the strong man wept like a child. 

“ Oh, this is hard, hard! I cannot bear your grief, 
Philip ! It is wringing my very soul ! Cease, cease in 
God’s mercy ! Do not — oh, do not shed these bitter tears. 
Forgive me, forgive me. I would sooner have died than 
have caused you sorrow.” She sank on her knees before 
him, wound her arms around his neck, and pressed her 
cold cheek against his wet face. 

“ Ah, Pyrrha, how happy I was this morning, as I sat 
looking at your picture, for I was so sure of your love, so 
sure of your precious companionship for the remainder of 
my days ! I thought of how we would pass the years hand 
in hand together ; how God’s blessing would cheer our 
work ; of your tender, helping hands among my poor. 
But now — now I must lose you, must give you up to an- 
other, my priceless jewel ! Oh, I cannot, I cannot. You 
were mine first, I have, a prior claim, I will not release my 
treasure.” He held her close to his sobbing, throbbing 
breast, kissing her eyes, brow, and lips, murmuring passion- 
ately, “ Mine, all my own.” 

“ Yes ; in heart, in spirit yours, but in name — Oh ! 
there is no alternative. There is a fearful secret ; and were 
I to refuse, there would be two graves instead of one. 
Philip, Philip, I have tried to escape it, but fatality is 
stronger than my love. Some day I may be free to tell 
you all, and then you will understand and forgive me. I 
shall always be true to my love ; no kiss but yours shall 
ever stain my lips, my noble Philip.” She pressed her 
lips to his again and again, and mingled her tears with his. 

“ Pyrrha, I shall never cease to love you. You alone 
can brighten my lonely life, shed a heavenly radiance on 
my dreary hearthstone, and no other can take your place. 
Some persons laugh at dreams ; I, too, scorn superstition, 
but only a few nights ago I had what I realize now was a 
warning of this sorrow. 

“ I dreamed you had gone into a garden filled with 
sunshine and flowers to pluck a fragrant rose, while I 
remained outside. Suddenly it grew dark, and becoming 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


53 


alarmed at your long stay I called out, ‘ Pyrrha ! Pyrrha ! ’ 
but, alas ! only the dismal echo of my own voice came 
back to me. So it will be when my heart calls out to you, 

and you will not hear me. You — you ” 

He could not conclude the sentence ; it seemed too 
horrible for him to contemplate. 

A cold numbness had seized Pyrrha’s limbs, and she 
felt its deadly influence creeping to her heart. 

Half an hour later he unclasped the clinging arms, took 
the face between his palms, and gazed long and earnestly 
upon it, as if striving to fix it in his memory forever. 

The parting words were spoken, a piercing cry of 
“ Philip ! Philip ! ” rent the air, and reached the heart- 
broken, desolate man in his carriage ; then all was silent, 
save the moaning of the wind, that seemed to echo that 
plaintive sob of “ Philip ! ” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“ Well, bless my soul, if that ain’t Mason a-coming up 
the walk, and here I am with a soiled collar, and my 
frizzes a-lying on the dresser ! Gracious ! what shall I 
do ? He must not see me in this dishabille ; it would take 
all the romance out of the dear old man. Oh, what a pre- 
dicament ! Sarah ! ” she called, her voice pitching to a 
high key as she continued, “ Sarah ! Sarah ! ” 

A good-natured, frowsy-looking girl finally appeared, 
with sleeves rolled up above her elbows, her fat, dimpled 
hands covered with soap-suds. 

“ Is the house a-fire, marm ? ” she asked. 

“ Sarah ! ” Miss Martha was evidently much excited. 
“ I ain’t gone dafe, marm.” 

“ When will you learn to speak respectfully ? ” 

“ Don’t know, marm, thought I was ’spectable.” 

“ Stupid ! stupid ! and at such a moment, too. Go to 
the door — Great Scott ! he’s here.” 

“No, marm ; the Scott be a-lying on the doctor’s table, 

if that’s what ye mane. I be after ” 

“ Oh, my ! ” and Martha held her hands up in abject 
despair. “ Go ! No, come back,” she added quickly as the 
girl started toward the office with a lively clatter. “ Will 
you listen to me ? ” 


54 


pyrrha: 


“ Certain, marm ; but wasn’t ye after tellin’ me to go ? ” 
And Sarah looked thoroughly disgusted. 

“Alas! he is here.” 

“ I don’t see him, marm. I think ye ain’t well.” 

“ It is Mr. Peake. There ! he has rung. Oh, how 
surprises do throw my heart into a flutter ! 

“ Go admit him, — go quickly ! and say — say, that I will 
be down presently. Mind, no gossiping. Oh, girl ! You’d 
try the patience of a saint ! Go quickly ! ” 

“ What can ail the poor thing ? ” said Sarah as she 
went to open the door, while her mistress ascended the 
stairs with all the agility of a maid of sixteen. 

There was a broad grin on the rosy face of the Irish 
girl as she ushered the affable Mason Peake into the 
parlor. 

“ Miss Martha is ingaged in disrobin’, and ye are to 
plase make yerself at home till she kin git fixed up a bit.” 

“ Ahem ! ” broke in Mason, evidently disconcerted, and 
began rubbing his palms together as Sarah lingered. 

“ I can’t hintertain ye, sir, fur I was told not to be 
gossipin’,” said the girl demurely. After a pause she 
continued, “ Fine day it’s going to be, ain’t it ? ” 

“ Yes ; ahem, very. Does your mistress know I’m 
here ? ” 

“ Oh lor’ bless your heart ! an’ that she does, she- seed 
you a-comin’ up the path, an’ the way she screeched fur 
me, ye’d have thought the house took fire shure. Do ye 
know that ye’d be doin’ me a heap o’ good to kape on 
a-comin’ here ? ” she asked, trying to look serious. 

“ Me ? Why, ahem — I ? how so ? ” And Mason rubbed 
his hands still more vigorously, and grew altogether un- 
comfortable as Sarah tip-toed to the door in a mysterious 
manner, then back to his chair, and whispered : 

“ Case she likes ye, and arter you’ve bin here she ain’t 
a bit cranky, or ” 

Here the rustle of her mistress’s gown caught her atten- 
tion, and she endeavored to beat a hasty retreat, but too 
late. Her actions betrayed disobedience, and Miss Mar- 
tha seized her gently by the ear and escorted her to the 
kitchen. 

“ Just my confounded luck ! ” exclaimed Peake ; “ and 
I wanted her in the best of humor too.” 

When Martha returned to the parlor she appeared 


A STORY OF TWO CRTMES ! 


55 


calm and dignified, and the smile that greeted Mason 
betrayed nothing of the incident which had occurred a 
moment before. 

Mason felt his face grow as red as a peony, and his 
heart thumped loudly as she spoke. 

“ This is a charming surprise, I did not expect you 
much before Friday. There are few men who know just 
how to please a woman ; but you, my dear Mr. Peake, are 
proficient in the art.” 

“ Thank you, thank you, Miss Martha. I am glad that 
1 obeyed the impulse of my — my conscience. I was just 
passing, that is — I was on my way to Squire Bolton’s to 
collect that old bill which has been standing these five 
years now, and I thought I might kill two birds with one 
stone, no — kill one bird with two stones — I mean, kill 
two birds with the same stone. That is ” 

“ O — h ! ” ejaculated Martha in a tone that froze 
Mason’s courage, and the rising inflection grated unpleas- 
antly on his nerves. 

“ By George ! I’ve put my foot into it now,” thought 
the old man, and he realized his blunder when Martha 
seated herself on the opposite side of the room, looking 
cold and formal as she brushed the folds of her silk apron 
into severe smoothness. He adjusted his glasses, then re- 
moved them, and with his bandana handkerchief polished 
his spectacles ; but after employing several moments in this 
occupation, and finding the atmosphere increasing in cold- 
ness, he ventured an apology. 

“ You — you fail to comprehend me, I fear. The fact 
is — I — I could not resist the temptation to get a glimpse 
of your fresh young countenance ” 

“That will do right there, Mr. Peake,” interrupted 
Martha, looking a little less frigid. 

“That does not impress her.” Then adding aloud, 
“But you are young — younger than I.” 

“ Well, I should say so,” she returned, with a gleam of 
triumph, “and much younger, too.” 

“ Yes — yes, I should hope so,” Mason answered, grow- 
ing bolder as the ice was broken. 

“ Why — would you believe it ? — I was told only yester- 
day that I seemed to grow younger, and he said that I must 
be possessed of the elixir of youth. Wasn’t that a pretty 
compliment ? ” 


56 


PYRRHA : 


“ Yes, it was ; but he didn’t mean it — I — I mean he 
didn’t know what he was talking about. I mean — oh, 
confound it ! — I don’t mean anything, except that he was 
a fool, and so am I ” 

“ Sir ! ” with crushing dignity. 

“ Oh, I didn’t mean that either ; I mean that I am 
piqued that he should pay you a prettier compliment than 
I, Mason Peake, have ever dared to do.” 

“Well, he had more courage than you.” 

“ Courage ! ” cried Peake ; “ who said I ever lacked 
courage? Just tell me what to say, and I’ll say it, and 
I defy that ‘ youth elixerer ’ to say it better. — Ah ! you 
are angry again. Oh, I am a great blunderer, but you 
see — ” He paused, hoping Martha would put in a word 
to help him out, but never a word did she deign to speak. 
Bolt upright she sat, with lips firmly closed, and eyes 
bent upon her knitting. Peake tried in various ways to 
extract from her a word or look ; he even offered some 
of his stale jokes, which he had repeated time and again, 
but finding this ineffectual he began moving his chair, 
inch by inch, until he was at her side. Martha appar- 
ently failed to observe his movements ; and Reake looked 
at her doubtfully, then pulled down his waistcoat, loos- 
ened his collar, that seemed to strangle his courage, 
stroked his snowy beard, sighed, and finally exclaimed : 

“ Peek-a-boo ! ” 

But all of no avail : the frozen features never relaxed, 
and Mason scratched his head in perplexity. Then, as if 
the thought just occurred to him, he slyly slipped his arm 
around her waist and said : 

“ Martha, how can you ? ” 

The knitting fell from her fingers, the face beamed 
with a tender glow, and she nestled to him, saying : 

“Ah, Mason, I cannot. To remain angry after this 
appeal, is more than my tender heart can withstand.” 

“ If ye plase, marm ! ” exclaimed a voice at the door. 

“ What do you mean by this intrusion ? ” cried Martha. 

“ Shure kin I help it when a man wants the doctor ? ” 

“ Why did you not show him into the office ? ” 

“ Case the likes of him I niver seed afore. He might 
be after carrying off the furniture, or the brick-back, 
an’ ” 

“What sort of a person is he ? ” interrupted Martha. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


57 


,l Oh, but he has a nose an’ face red as the pippers 
a-hangin’ on the pantry wall.” 

“ Does he wear a hard, sinister expression ? ” 

“ His close is awful, marm.” 

“ What stupidity ! ” 

“ I think so, marm.” 

Mason with difficulty suppressed a laugh. 

“ Has he a wart on the left cheek near the ear ? ” con- 
tinued Martha. 

“ I’ll go an’ ask him, marm.” 

“ If he answers my description, show him into the doc- 
tor’s office, for it must be he .” Martha turned to Mason, 
and he wondered why the little lady looked so vexed. 
Ah, perhaps she too did not like the interruption. 

“ I’ll be sure he’s got the wart first, and wears spinster 
close, marm.” And the girl left the two alone to com- 
plete the love chapter. But Martha’s mind had suddenly 
been plunged into another channel of thought, and she 
was in no wooing mood ; the spell was broken, much to 
Mason’s dismay. 

“ Some day — ” began she. 

“Some day — ” sighed Peake dejectedly. 

“ Some day Philip will find that his valuable books 
have taken wings ; then he’ll see that I was right.” 

“ Of course he will, but don’t let it excite you, my dear, 
until it happens, which is not likely ” 

“ Not likely ? Why, do you know, Mason Peake, 
that at this very moment there is a convict in this 
house ? ” 

“ N — o ! You don’t mean it ! ” 

“ I do. He ain’t been out of jail long either. How 
Philip can ever take an interest in this sort of humanity 
is beyond my power of comprehension.” 

“Well,” replied Peake, “it all goes to show what a 
good fellow the doctor is. He’s full to the brim with 
sympathy, and it makes him happy to pick up those whom 
others have cast aside. Oh, Philip is a mighty fine fellow ! 
Why, the other day as he was passing the square a num- 
ber of ragged urchins were congregated about a lunch 
counter, and they looked so eloquently at the pie-man 
that Philip said it went straight to his heart, and straight 
to his pocket went his hand, and straight to the man went 
money enough to give the hungry little fellows a good 


5 « 


pyrrha: 


meal ? 1 tell you there’s something to be proud of in 

having a fellow like that for a cousin.” 

“Yes ; but he is too generous, too easily imposed upon. 
Why, this convict — John Fay, he calls himself — told 
Philip a long story, and he believes every word of it. I 
told my cousin it was all gammon.” 

“What was his story ? Tell it to me, and while you 
are doing so may I — ” With an arch look his arm again 
encircled her waist, and Martha, entirely willing that it 
should be so, began : 

“ John Fay approached Philip with some beautifully 
painted mottoes, such as ‘ God bless our Home,’ and 
‘ What’s a Home without a Wife ? ’ ” Here Mason started. 
Had she made a mistake ? But Martha proceeded, as if 
it was all right : 

“ He only asked fifty cents for them, and my cousin, 
being a judge of fine work, thought them worth more, and 
he gave him five dollars. Oh ! he squanders money like 
water,” she exclaimed, answering Mason’s astonished 
look. “ Well, as you can imagine, Philip’s generosity 
quite overcame the convict, and he evidently concluded 
it diplomacy to confide his story to my cousin. I’m not 
very sympathetic with such a class, you can plainly 
see ” 

“ Oh, yes ; very plainly ! ” interrupted Mason. 

“ This man told Philip that he was trying hard to be 
honest, and had only that morning, as he was in doubt 
which way to turn, prayed God to help him, — prayed for 
the first time in his life. Think of that, Mason, the first 
time, and he’s a grown man ! ” 

“ Shocking ! ” responded Peake, growing uncomfort- 
able, as it occurred to him that he was rather deficient in 
that respect himself. 

“ Indeed it is,” continued Martha. “ He told my 
cousin that the mottoes were painted by a man whom he 
called ‘ Clifford,’ who was insane in a mild sort of a way, 
and who had assisted him in house-breaking — that was 
his trade, think of it ! — for which John Fay gave him 
food and shelter. 

“ While the latter was in jail his miserable accomplice 
supported himself, it seems, by painting, though Fay said 
he found him almost starved when he returned to the 
garret after his release from prison. The insane man 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


59 


suddenly disappeared, not even taking the mottoes. Of 
course, all this interested Philip, as you may well imagine. 
When the lawless man declared that he wanted to work 
and earn an honest living, but that no one would give him 
employment, Philip promised to try to obtain it for him. 
I say it’s a shame to recommend such a character, and it’s 
preposterous to allow him to come here like some decent 
person. There’s no telling what he may do, — and a 
woman of my extreme nervous temperament left unpro- 
tected and alone ! Oh, think of it, Mason ! ” 

“ I do, my dear, I do,” said the gentleman nervously. 

Here the sound of carriage-wheels attracted their atten- 
tion, and soon they heard the doctor’s voice, speaking to 
Carl. 

Martha met him in the corridor with the exclamation : 

“Goodness! Philip, what has happened? You look 
like a ghost ; are you ill ? ” 

“ No, Martha,” he quietly answered, as he turned 
toward the office. “ Let us have an early dinner, I have 
another visit to make some distance out of town.” 

“ Yes, Philip.” And Martha, returned to the parlor, 
looking grave and concerned. Never before had she seen 
such lines of pain imprinted on the noble countenance of 
her cousin. 

“Confound it!” said Peake to himself, as he noted 
Martha’s expression ; “ this ain’t to be my day for propos- 
ing.” And he wisely talked of business until he took his 
leave. 

The man about whom Martha had been holding such a 
lively discussion rose as the physician entered, and stood 
twirling his cap in a nervous manner. 

Philip greeted him kindly, and asked : 

“ Have you been waiting long ? ” 

“ About half an hour. I came early, so as not to miss 
you, sir ; I am discouraged, and fear there ain’t no chance 
for a fellow of my sort.” 

“ What has occurred to depress you ? Did you see Mr. 
Carollton ? ” 

“No, sir— because — ” He hesitated, uncertain what 
to say. 

“ I trust you have a sufficient excuse for not doing so. 
It was with much difficulty that I gained that gentleman’s 
consent to take you on trial, or even to talk with you 


6o 


pyrrha: 


about employment after I had told him your story. He 
will now believe that you have no desire to work for a 
living.” 

“ But I have, sir, indeed I have. You see, I did not tell 
you all, sir : that, together with my other crimes, I had been 
guilty of striking a fellow-workman, at a place where they 
were good enough to take me in.” 

“ I believe not,” answered Philip sternly. 

“ I had only been in the shop a week, sir, when I 
noticed that the men watched me suspiciously, and often 
whispered together in a manner which plainly told that I 
was the fellow they were talking about. One day, during 
dinner hour, the foreman came to me, and asked me to 
make a peculiar screw for his private use. I consented. 
He said, ‘Use the material that belongs to the boss ; he 
won’t miss it.’ This I refused to do, whereupon he taunted 
me, laughed at my honesty, and shouted to the other 
fellows, * Do you hear that, boys ? I suppose he learned 
’that up the river, aye ? Such airs for a jail bird. Ha ! 
ha ! ha ! ’ 

“ Much more they said, and I lost my temper ; I forgot, 
sir, that I had no right to anything but abuse ; forgot that 
the taint of the prison was about my clothes, and that I 
could never again associate with honest men as an equal. 
They fired my blood with their sneers, and I — I seized a 
hammer and struck the foreman a blow. For this I was 
arrested and served three months. Yesterday, as I was 
about to enter Mr. Carollton’s shop, I saw standing near 
the window that very man. I knew it would be use- 
less to seek work there, for he was a respectable citizen, 
his word would have had more weight with Mr. Carollton 
than mine. What show would there have been for an 
outcast like me ? Ah, sir ; sin follows us and finds us out. 
If there were more men like you in the world to give a 
lift and a kind word, there would be less of my sort in 
prison.” Fay spoke sadly. 

“You acted right; but lam grieved to learn of this 
matter, and wish you had told me in the first place. How- 
ever, you must not get discouraged. If I cannot obtain 
employment for you at your trade, I will speak to my 
gardener. Have you heard anything since of that man 
‘ Clifford,’ your former companion ? ” 

“ No, sir,” returned Fay ; “ though I have kept a sharp 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


6l 


look-out for him about the places he used to hang around. 
I begin to suspect that the poor fellow has killed himself. 
He often spoke of being robbed and murdered, and his 
eyes would glitter when he saw a knife. Oh, he was as 
mad as a March hare, and the pity of it, sir, for he must 
have been a gentleman born.” 

“ And you could never ascertain his right name ? ” 

“ Well, the fact is, sir, I didn’t try very hard. I found 
him sick, I took him to my ‘ turn-in,’ and kept him there 
till he got strong. After that he was my pal — as you 
already know,” and the ex-convict hung his head. 

“ How did you ever persuade him to assist in your dis- 
honest work ? ” asked Philip, much puzzled. 

“ Oh, I had only to say that we would go to the house 
of the man who had robbed him, — for this he constantly 
talked about, — and the poor crazy fellow was all too will- 
ing to do as I bade him.” 

“You did a fearful wrong there, John Fay. To lead 
a demented man into vice, to keep him from his friends, 
to expose him to danger which he could not comprehend: 
that, in my opinion, is the greatest of all your sins. Oh, 
man — man, shun your evil life and be upright and honest ! 
When you told me that you wanted to do right, I believed 
you ; and to-day I am more than willing to help you that 
you may not waver in your resolution.” 

“ Oh, sir,” cried the miserable man, “ I thank you for 
your faith in such as I am. I ain’t worthy of it, but I 
mean to be — I mean to be.” Fay’s voice grew unsteady, 
and he seemed greatly moved. 

Dr. Everemond took a roll of bills from his pocket, and 
handed them to the man, saying : 

“ Go and purchase a suit of clothing, and retain suffi- 
cient to pay your board until employment is secured.” 

“ You — you don’t mean all this for me ? me, that don’t 
deserve it ? ” gasped the man. 

“ Yes,” replied Philip. 

The rough fellow was overcome by the physician’s gen- 
erosity, and wept like a child. Before going out he bent 
his knee and reverently kissed the hem of Philip’s coat. 

After Fay left the office Dr. Everemond sat pensively 
for a long time, forgetting the poor wretch he had saved, 
in thinking of her he had lost, — his love, his beautiful, sad- 
eyed Pyrrha. 


62 


PYRRHA : 


CHAPTER IX. 

Mason Peake was a sort of honorary, but somewhat 
superannuated member of the law firm of “ Moore, Peake 
& Moore,” though years ago he had been an active part- 
ner and a universal favorite at the bar. 

Completely absorbed by business activities, he had 
lived the lonely, unnatural life of a bachelor ; but now, at 
the age of sixty-nine, he began thinking seriously of tak- 
ing a companion. No young, pretty damsel, whose airs 
and graces would keep him in constant dread lest they 
should attract some younger individual who might im- 
press her more favorably, and thus some fine morning he 
would awake to the cruel fact that his wife had deserted 
him. Oh, no ! while he admired youth and beauty, his 
common-sense admonished him to give no thought in that 
direction in the choice of a life partner. 

It would have been no difficult task, however, to have 
found one willing to accept him, notwithstanding his 
white locks, for his comfortable home, and ample bank 
account was a bait that more than one ambitious mamma 
had angled for. 

“ Give me a woman who can tolerate my slow step, 
my fast-failing sight, and bent shoulders. What can the 
young, in their full flush of life, gayety and activity, un- 
derstand of the infirmities of age ? Aye, the very thought 
is folly.” Thus Mason Peake reasoned, and hence he gave 
the opposite sex a wide berth. 

Little less than six months ago he had occasion to call 
on Dr. Everemond, and there met the calm, dignified 
Martha Russell in one of her sweetest moods. 

He acknowledged that he had at last found the woman 
whom he could wed with impunity. Having always ad- 
mired the doctor’s fine unselfish character, and enjoying 
an hour in his society, his fondness now developed into a 
serious attachment, and his visits grew alarmingly fre- 
quent ; but Philip soon understood matters, and watched 
the situation with a pleasant interest. 

Mason believed Martha to be the perfection of woman- 
hood, and felt confident that she had a weakness for 
him, which to his mind was no small proof of her good 
sense. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


63 


Rising earlier than usual, he dressed with particular 
care, and set out to settle a matter which disturbed him 
more than he was willing to confess. 

It was a cold morning, and the frosty air bit his long, 
sharp nose, until it was a bright red, and his gold-rimmed 
spectacles were covered with a vapor which transformed 
all things into a misty beauty, while his heart, hot and 
eager, grew young again with hope. 

Sarah admitted him into the parlor, and there was a 
curious sparkle in her roguish Irish eyes as he whispered 
confidentially : 

“ Say to your mistress that I wish to see her on impor- 
tant business.” 

“Shure that I will,” replied Sarah as she departed. 

Mason felt nervous as the eventful moment drew near ; 
but the advances he had made on the occasion of his last 
visit, and which she had received so favorably, gave him 
courage. 

“ If ye plase, Mister Peck, the doctor says, ‘ Ye are plase 
to come an’ take a cup o’ coffee wid him,’ ” said Sarah as 
she reentered the parlor. 

“Ah, yes; I forgot to breakfast before I left home. 
Think I must be in a bad state of mind,” he spoke half 
aloud. 

“ Yes, that ye be, sir.” 

“What?” exclaimed Mason, surprised at the girl’s 
pertness. 

“ That ye be a fine-lookin’ gintleman,” returned the 
girl aptly. 

“ Oh ! ” said Mason with a smile ; he slipped a silver 
piece into her hand and she led him to the breakfast-room, 
where he found Martha looking very red. 

“ Good morning, Mason, what brings you out so early ? 
Sit down and have some breakfast, for I am sure the keen 
air has sharpened your appetite. Don’t you think so, 
cousin ? ” And Philip turned to Martha, who illy disguised 
her confusion as she placed a chair at the table for her aged 
lover, and called loudly for Sarah to fetch another plate, 
knife and fork. 

“ Ahem ! I — I confess it’s quite unusual for me ; but 
the fact is, I had some business this way which I have 
neglected for a long time, and you know the early bird — 
no, I mean the early worm ” 


6 4 


PYRRHA : 


“ You mean,” interrupted Martha, with a blush, as she 
saw a smile on her cousin’s face, “ that the early bird 
catches the worm.” 

“ Yes, that’s it precisely. I am the bird, you — ahem ! ” 
And he was conveniently seized with a fit of coughing, 
while Martha turned her attention to the servant 

“ Sarah, will you hurry ? ” 

“ I can’t come on a gallup, kin I, marm ? ” And the girl 
put down the delicate china with a bang which threatened 
to shiver it into fragments. 

“ I will teach you to come on a respectable gait though,” 
replied Martha with an angry flush, which instantly dis- 
appeared as she addressed Peake. 

“ Two lumps of sugar ? ” she asked, with an arch smile, 
as she filled the cup with hot, fragrant coffee. 

“ Five, if you please,” returned Peake. 

“ Five ! ” echoed Martha, thinking how sweet he must 
be, while Sarah turned to go with a grin on her face. 

“ If it would not inconvenience you, I should prefer a 
glass of hot water, before partaking of the coffee. I am 
given to indigestion, and I find it an excellent remedy. 
Have you discovered it, doctor ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; and Dr. Salisbury — who claims the inven- 
tion of the beverage, or medicine — certainly found the 
right thing for a dyspeptic stomach. No one need suffer 
with indigestion if they will drink a glass of hot water at 
about no degrees, half an hour before each meal. You 
drink hot water, Mason, instead of whiskey cocktails, and 
you’ll live to see a hundred,” said Philip as he sipped 
his Java. 

Sarah had been despatched for the dyspeptic remedy, 
and now returned with a pitcher of steaming water, which 
she carried so carelessly that it streamed along on the 
carpet. 

“ Oh, you terrible creature ! ” exclaimed Martha in a 
fretful voice. “You will certainly drive me crazy with 
your slack ways.” 

“ Come, cousin, give Mason the beverage, or it will be 
less than thirty degrees,” chimed in Philip, as if weary 
of this constant fault-finding. He scarcely tasted of 
his breakfast, and Peake wondered why he looked so 
pale. 

Martha sweetened the coffee, and smiled at Mason 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 65 

in return for his ardent glances of admiration and affec- 
tion. 

The latter took up the glass, swallowed a generous 
draught, then dropped the tumbler with a cry of pain, 
while he clapped his hand to his mouth, and ran about 
the room in so comical a manner that even Martha could 
not forbear to smile. 

“ What is it, Mason ?” asked Philip. 

“ That beverage was more than 150 degrees: it was hot- 
ter than pepper sauce. Phew ! ” 

“ Poor fellow ! ” said Martha sympathetically ; “ I hope 
you aren’t hurt much ? ” 

“ Oh ! my whole mouth is a blister. Doctor, prescribe 
for me at once, or I shall not be able to eat for a month,” 
said Mason between groans, as he seated himself again at 
the table. 

“ Not so bad as that, I hope.” 

“ Aye, and worse, I shall not talk for some time, and I 
had so much to tell you, Miss Martha.” 

“ There seems to be no immediate danger of your los- 
ing your tongue,” said the physician ; “ or appetite either,” 
he thought, as presently Mason gave in to Martha’s 
coaxing and ate heartily of the golden johnny-cake, and 
declared that he had never tasted its like before, and even 
suggested that the eggs were fresher than when taken 
from the nest. These compliments pleased Martha, and 
amused Philip, who enjoyed the whole affair ; and the 
strange courtship reminded him of two happy, foolish 
children. 

Breakfast was nearly over when Mason dropped his 
fork with an exclamation that caused Martha to look up 
in surprise. 

“ Gracious ! what have you swallowed now ? ” she asked. 

“ A case of small-pox, and I clean forgot it.” 

“ Sakes alive ! ” responded Martha in alarm. 

“ Only think of it, doctor,” continued Peake, “ a genu- 
ine case, and right close to us too ! ” 

“ Who has it ? ” asked Philip interestedly. 

“ Why, none other than that pretty Mildred Elliott, the 
coal-merchant’s daughter.” 

“ Thank goodness ! ” 

“ What ? ” exclaimed Mason, horrified to hear Martha 
speak in that heartless manner. 

5 


66 


PYRRHA ! 


“ I meant that I was thankful that you didn’t have it,” 
she returned with a blush. 

“ Oh ! ah ! ” responded he, with a beaming smile. 

“ Do you know whether they have a physician, Mason ? ” 
asked Philip, as he arose from the table. 

“Yes ; her brother said Dr. Rodney is attending her. 
I understand that the poor girl is entirely deserted by her 
family, who fled to the 1 St. George ; * and she is alone 
with a nurse and servant.” 

“ Surely you would not undertake the case, Philip, when 
you know my horror of small-pox. You would not expose 
yourself to the danger of taking it ? ” 

“ There is no risk, Martha,” responded Everemond, “ for 
I have made a careful study of contagious diseases and 
their prophylactics.” 

“ Well, let us hope there will be no occasion for your 
services, doctor,” put in Mason, noting the look of dis- 
may that crossed Martha’s features. “ I can understand 
your cousin’s fear of contracting it ; I myself would flee to 
the North Pole to escape it,” and Mason gave Martha a 
tender glance and a significant nod. 

“ Ah, you are sympathetic, Mr. Peake,” with a long- 
drawn sigh. “ You comprehend so perfectly the nervous 
elements of our delicate constitutions. Why were you 
not a physician ? ” 

“ Or husband ? ” broke in Philip. 

“ How shocking you are, cousin ! ” retorted Martha, 
with a toss of her head that Peake thought so becoming. 
As for the latter, he coughed, looked silly, and stam- 
mered : 

“ Well — I am quite at a loss to — to explain ; I admit, 
however, that I have often realized that my ability lay in 
that direction, and I would no doubt have made ” 

Here Sarah interrupted him by bringing in a message 
which read as follows : 

“ Oh, doctor, come quick ; mamma is so sick. I think she will die 
if you don’t come. Nettie Giles.” 

“ Poor little girl ! ” said Philip ; “ I half expected this, 
but ’tis sooner than I had anticipated. Sarah, order my 
carriage at once.” 

Dr. Everemond then told Mason of the Gileses while 
arranging his medicine-case ; and Martha held her hand- 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


67 


kerchief to her eyes, as her cousin portrayed their pov- 
erty, and told of the widow’s struggle to support her 
child ; how her health had broken down by unremit- 
ting toil and deprivations while she stitched for a mere 
pittance. 

Mason was all sympathy. 

“ Why didn’t I know of this before ? ” he said ; “ I 
could have had the poor woman, with her little one, 
down at my house, where she could have had plenty to 
eat and been comfortable. That’s just the way, we 
never know until it’s too late.” 

As Philip entered his carriage, he called back : 

“ Martha, if John Fay comes during my absence, let 
Carl set him to work in the green-house.” 

He drove off without waiting to hear his cousin’s flat- 
tering comments on his sanity, and it took all Peake’s per- 
suasive powers to restore her good-humor. When he suc- 
ceeded, and her florid face glowed with radiant smiles, he 
waxed warm in his enthusiasm, and in an eloquent speech 
asked her to accept him for better or worse. It required 
some arguing on his part ; but he finally left the house a 
happy man. 

As to Martha, she was in the best of spirits ; she even 
permitted Sarah to help in opening the large cedar chest 
which had stood for the last fifteen years in the garret 
under lock and key. Now, as the heavy cover was raised, 
Sarah gave vent to an exclamation of surprise as the con- 
tents were taken out and piled upon the floor. 

There lay a mass of yellow brocades, Martha’s mother’s 
wedding-gown, then rare pieces of Dresden linen and deep 
flounces of antique laces. 

“Now, what shall I wear for the occasion? Truly, I 
am perplexed. It is so unexpected,” said Martha. 

Sarah came to the rescue. 

“ Faith, I’d be after puttin’ on this ere green silk, with 
the yaller buttercups. It’s a rale beauty, marm, so it is. 
An’ wouldn’t ye look jist ilegant wid this shower of skit- 
ter netting over yer shoulders ! ” And Sarah’s eyes grew 
large with admiration as she viewed the showy dress. 

“ Oh, how severely stupid you are, Sarah ! ” responded 
Martha, laughingly. “ That is the finest of tulle.” 

“ Oh shure, thin, it’s only anither name they bin givin’ 
it, marm.” 


68 


PYRRHA : 


“And you think this green silk would be becoming to 
my style of beauty ? ” asked Martha, doubtfully, as she 
shook out the folds, which emitted a strong musty odor 
that caused Sarah to choke and cough. 

“ Indade I do, marm. But what bad perfumery they 
must bin usin’ in thim days ! Phew ! ” 

“ Ah ! this is better, — a blue, a real sky-blue, strewed 
with golden-hearted daisies, and he is so fond of dai- 

• 99 

sies. 

“ That’s why he called you a daisy. Ain’t it, marm ? ” 

“ Sarah ! Have you been eavesdropping again ? ” 

“ Eh ? ” And she looked interrogatively at her mis- 
tress. 

“ Have you been listening ? ” asked Martha, again. 

“ No, marm, I only stood near the door in case you 
wanted me ” 

“ Good gracious ! what’s burning ? Don’t you smell 
something ? ” 

“Yes, marm, ’tis this ere ould-fashion’ purfumery, de- 
pind on it, marm.” 

“ You careless creature ! it is the peaches. Run down 
at once. Be quick ! ” 

“Ye are ’staken, case I sot them on to boil. Och ! ” 
Sarah ejaculated as she gathered up the old-fashioned 
garments to carry down-stairs. 

Martha, in her anxiety to save the pipkin — for she had 
no hopes of the fruit — fairly shoved the girl down the 
flight of narrow stairs. 

Sarah groaned and grunted as she tripped over the 
rich mass which dragged on the floor and entangled her 
feet, that were encased in large, loose slippers which clat- 
tered as she walked. 

The bride-elect sat on the floor ready to cry over her 
servant’s lack of common-sense. 

“ I declare, I would discharge her, only there is no 
telling what I’d get next. If they aren’t stupid, they are 
too smart with their tongues, and ‘sakes alive ! ’ I prefer 
ignorance and stupidity. The last one was a Scotch 
woman, nimble of foot and glib of tongue, with a bottle 
of ‘ Scotch ’ constantly in her pocket, which she called 
her ‘inspirer.’ No, I better keep Sarah, though I must get 
some one specially to assist with the wedding-breakfast. 
Wedding-breakfast ! How strange it sounds ! Who 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 69 

would have thought it ? Not I — and the dear old man ! 
What will Philip say ? Ah, and what will he do ? I am 
afraid he cannot get along without me, for the poor boy 
will be at the mercy of hired help, and the blundering of 
Sarah would drive him crazy in a week. How he will 
miss my johnny-cakes, the delicious rusks, and golden- 
brown pumpkin pies ! Ah ! how can I find it in my 
heart to leave him, though I do love Mason ? Philip has 
been so good to me : for fifteen long years I have lived 
under his roof, and though his wife gave me an endless 
lot of worry, he has always been kind and considerate. 
I remember when I recovered from the fever, how he 
brought me here, and said in his gentle way, ‘ Don’t worry 
about the future, Martha : so long as I have a home it 
shall also be yours.’ And I am going to leave him now 
at the mercy of servants. Is it right ? No ! I should be 
heartless indeed, to say nothing of ingratitude. Mason 
must wait until Philip is married, and if I am any judge 
it won’t be long. When I think how he cherishes that 
picture which of late he carries about in his breast 
pocket — I really fear he has given away his entire heart, 
and when that’s once gone, marriage comes soon after in 
most cases. Ah, well ; may God bless the boy and give 
him a woman fit to appreciate his sublime nature.” 

She sat awhile longer soliloquizing, when the odor of 
burnt peaches became too strong and broke the spell. 
She hurried down to the kitchen, and between her com- 
plaints and reproofs sprinkled sugar on the stove-lid to 
change the atmosphere. 

Sarah merely shrugged her shoulders and muttered, 
“ Couldn’t help it, marm. Them burnt themselves.” 

The next incident which occurred to worry Martha 
was the arrival of John Fay. She had a strong antipathy 
for this class of people, and never ceased preaching to 
her cousin of the risk he ran in harboring them. 

She called to Carl, and with severe dignity informed 
him that the person had been engaged by Dr. Everemond, 
and should be set to work at once. 

Fay offered his gratitude, but like an empress she 
swept by the man, with her skirts drawn closely about 
her to escape coming in contact with his clothing. 

The noon hour arrived, and the sun shone through the 
stained-glass windows, making beautiful patches of vari- 


7 ° 


PYRRHA : 


ous colors on the different objects in the doctor’s office 
when he entered, looking pale and serious, carrying a 
little girl who clung to her crutches and sobbed piteously. 

Philip placed the child on the divan and called to 
Martha, who threw up her hands and exclaimed : 

“ What on earth does this mean, Philip ? ” 

“ That her mother died an hour ago, and I promised to 
take care of this little one.” 

“ And a fine responsibility you have taken upon your 
shoulders,” broke in Martha. 

“ Do not cry so, Nettie,” said the doctor kindly, not 
heeding his cousin’s remark. “ Let Martha remove your 
hood and shawl. She has a good heart, despite her 
abrupt ways, and will comfort you, I am sure.” 

“ Oh, doctor ! doctor ! no one can comfort me now 
since my poor dear mamma is gone. You do not know 
how I loved her ! She was all I had in this wide world. 
Oh, why didn’t I die before her ! If only that carriage 
had killed me instead of leaving me a miserable cripple ! 
My heart will break, for it aches so for my poor, poor dead 
mamma,” sobbed Nettie. 

“ No, it won’t, child,” said Martha gently, as she began 
untying the coarse worsted hood which covered the 
tangled mass of shining black hair. “ You will soon get 
over your loss, for children’s hearts are like india-rubber : 
they stretch a long way, but never break. Come, come, 
don’t sob like this ; you’ll wash all that pretty blue out of 
your eyes and make your face ugly. Cheer up, and 
thank God that He sent you such a friend as Dr. Evere- 
mond. Can you walk ? if so come with me, and I will 
give you some milk and honey.” 

Martha took her fine cambric handkerchief and wiped 
Nettie’s cheeks, which were sore from the rough shawl 
that she had used to brush away the bitter tears, the tears 
of her first sorrow. Nobly the girl tried to stifle her sobs, 
but her lips trembled painfully, as she answered : 

“ I can walk a little with the use of my crutches, for 
my ankle is very weak yet. But I do not want any honey, 
indeed I could not swallow it, I have a big lump here,” 
touching her slender throat. “ You do not know what it 
is to be poor, and have your only friend — your gentle 
mamma — lying stiff and cold, with lips so tightly shut, that 
no kiss will ever open them again to say, ‘ My darling 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


7 


Nettie ! ’ Ah, lady, there is nothing that can take her 
place — there is nothing that can make me forget.” And 
she concluded with a fresh outburst of weeping. 

Martha’s eyes grew misty, and she took off her glasses 
to wipe more than once, as she listened to the child’s 
pathetic voice which recalled to memory her own bitter 
tears, her desolation, when she too had lost her mother. 
She remembered how poignant was her own grief as she 
kissed the icy lips that had never uttered a harsh word. 
She pitied the orphan ; and since she had suffered the 
same pangs, her heart went out to the bereft child in a 
true motherly fashion. 

She looked around for her cousin, but he had left the 
office, and finally Martha coaxed Nettie to the dining- 
room. 

After the first burst of grief had spent itself, the former 
rejoiced to see her sip the milk and taste of the hot 
cooky that Sarah had just taken from the oven. 

As Martha bathed the child’s face in rose-water and 
patiently brushed the tangled curls, she was amazed at 
the pleasure it afforded her, and regretted the wasted 
years which might have been made happy by the pres- 
ence of a bright young life. 

She was at an utter loss how to supply immediately the 
girl with a becoming frock, but she finally conquered this 
difficulty by calling Sarah, and together they stitched up 
a plain dress cut from some soft black cashmere that had 
done service to the late Mrs. Everemond. 

Nettie looked on indifferently, while at any other time 
she would have been wild with joy. Now she only real- 
ized with a numb sort of gratitude that she had been 
given a home where grim poverty would never enter. 

She spoke little, and her slight frame shook with dry, 
quivering sobs, which Sarah said struck to her marrow. 

The black garment set off the pale face, and Sarah 
exclaimed : 

“ Faith, who’d a-thought she’d look so putty in this ere 
black ? Ye’ll be the makin’ of a fine lady if you don’t 
go on a-cryin’. Bless us ! it will be like natural livin’ to 
see a kid a-skippin’ here about. I be ready to tell the 
doctor he’s an angel.” 

“Sarah,” said Martha, “ call Carl, and tell him to help 
you carry the small bed from the alcove to the room 


72 


PYRRHA : 


south of mine. You will find a pair of red damask cur- 
tains in the hall closet, which you can hang ; also build a 
fire in the grate to warm the room.” 

“ Yes, marm.” And Sarah left to obey orders, saying to 
herself : 

“ She’s a sorry little thing, an’ I kinder wish I could be 
a-sayin’ something to comfort her a bit. But she is blessed 
lucky that my master took her in.” 

After Philip returned, he took the child to the green- 
house and interested her with the flowering orchids and 
the feathery palms ; then he seated her on the edge of 
the marble basin which contained tiny gold and silver 
fish. She took delight in feeding the shining beauties, 
and promised to take good care of them, also of the 
sweet singing canary that Philip had given her, and 
which answered to the name of “ Twedie.” 

Nettie was in a happier frame of mind after dinner, 
and played with the cat that had climbed into her lap. 
Later, Martha found her fast asleep, her lashes wet with 
tears, and her pale, thin cheek resting against the snowy 
fur of the friendly creature which she clasped in her 
arms. 


CHAPTER X. - 

“ Pyrrha, why did you come ? Are you not afraid of 
contracting this loathsome disease ? ” 

“ No, Mildred, I do not fear it. How are you feeling 
to-day ? ” 

“ Oh, miserable ! ” returned the girl, as she tossed 
among the lace-trimmed pillows in feverish restlessness. 

Pyrrha removed her wrap, and sat by the bed. She 
could hardly discover a trace of its former beauty in the 
face she looked upon. So wan, so mottled, so changed, 
that it was absolutely repulsive. 

“ I have come to stay with you, Mildred,” said Pyrrha, 
softly. “ Allan told me of your loneliness, and though 
he and mother protested against my coming, I am here 
to nurse you ; and as I am well informed on hygiene, I 
think I can be of service.” 

“ But not long since you were angry with me, were you 
not, Pyrrha ? ” asked the sick girl abruptly. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


73 


“ I was much disappointed in you, Mildred. Yes, and 
angry. But my brother loves you, and perhaps I have 
been too hasty. Be that as it may, you are entirely 
deserted by your family, and my wretched, aching heart 
pleaded for you in your loneliness. That is why I’m 
here.” 

“ Oh, you are so good ! ” cried Mildred. “ How shall 
I ever thank you ? It is sublime in you to risk your 
health, your life for me. Tell me, do you think my face 
will carry the mark of this offensive disease ? Oh, 1 
believe I would rather die than lose my beauty ! With 
my face all pitted — oh, imagine that horrible sight ! ” 
And with a groan the stricken beauty buried her face in 
the pillow. 

“ Do not worry, Mildred, I shall try to prevent it. But 
remember that beauty is only superficial. Consider not 
the face or form, but the soul. Let us try to keep that 
pure and unpitted, and it will illumine the countenance 
with a beauty of its own.” 

“ Ah, Pyrrha, that is all very well for some of us. 
You, for instance, possess a face which would readily 
reflect the purity of the soul. More than once I have 
noticed a holy light shining in your soft eyes ; but I — 
Oh, no! Perhaps I haven’t a soul ” 

“ Hush! hush! How can you speak so, Mildred ? ” 

“ Well, I am frank at least. Oh, dear, will that doctor 
never come ? What is he being paid for, I should like to 
know ? ” exclaimed the sick girl fretfully. 

Pyrrha felt of the rapidly beating pulse, and saw that 
the fever "was increasing. She ordered the heat shut off 
and the room ventilated, then asked the name of the 
physician. Being assured that it was not Philip, Pyrrha 
uttered an inaudible prayer that she would be spared the 
pain of another interview. Mildred grew rapidly worse, 
and Pyrrha was much relieved when the servant went to 
admit the doctor. 

The door opened and softly closed. Pyrrha did not 
see the face of the person who entered, for she was busy 
raising the patient into a more comfortable position, but 
the voice thrilled her heart as no music had ever done. 

“ Dr. Rodney is suffering with rheumatism, and I have 
come in his place.” 

Pyrrha’s first impulse was to rush forward and clasp 


74 


PYRRHA : 


her arms around his neck, but with an effort she con- 
trolled herself, and drawing aside the rich bed curtains 
stood face to face with Philip Everemond. 

Their eyes met, and an exclamation of astonishment 
escaped his lips ; he stretched out his arms as if to clasp 
her to his breast, but she remained motionless, struggling 
to control the influence which his presence exerted over 
her entire being. Oh, that frantic desire to fling herself 
into his arms ! How could she master it ? 

Pyrrha shook her head, and his arms dropped to his 
side, while he said in a troubled voice : 

“ Why are you here, Pyrrha ? Do you know that you 
are courting death ? ” 

She merely shrugged her shoulders and went over to 
the window. He followed her, and continued in a voice 
that could not reach the curtained bed : 

“ My darling, it is not yet too late. Confide in me. 
Oh, let me save you from this odious marriage — let me 
protect you from that wretch of a man ! Do not be 
obstinate — do not leave me desolate. Come to my 
lonely, aching heart. Pyrrha, hear me ” 

“ Hush, you will drive me mad ! ” she interrupted in 
desperation. She felt that she was rapidly weakening, 
and in another moment she would have yielded to his 
passionate entreaties. He saw her struggle and forbore 
to say more on the subject. 

“ Let me prevail on you to leave this place, my child : 
do that much to please me. This atmosphere is poison- 
ous ; do not expose yourself to the danger of death — for 
my sake ” 

“ If the doctor has come, why don’t he attend to me ?” 
called out Mildred petulantly. “ I shall die with this 
terrible headache and nausea. Oh, dear, why don’t he 
come ? ” she continued hysterically. 

On examining his patient Dr. Everemond found that 
she had the disease in its most malignant form, and again 
he entreated Pyrrha to leave the house ; but with a faint 
smile she shook her head and answered : 

“ No. I shall remain. I run no more risk of taking 
the disease than you do. Do not fear, I shall not die, 
for death comes only to those who desire to live ; it is 
not jealous of misery.” 

After his first visit Philip saw no more of Pyrrha. Dur- 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


75 


ing his subsequent visits, she took refuge in an adjoining 
room, and there, where she could hear the sound of his 
voice, she struggled between love and duty. Her brows 
contracted and her mouth grew rigid as iron. 

“ I will see him no more in this world, unless death 
snaps my fetters,” she said aloud. 

But her hungry heart cried out savagely : 

“ Why not ? He is so near. Why not ? ” 

The weary days dragged on, the crisis came, and Mil- 
dred passed the danger of death. Her convalescence 
was rapid, much being due to Pyrrha’s intelligent atten- 
tion and her faithful vigil. She looked like some angel 
of mercy as she flitted about the sick-chamber. Con- 
stantly she was on the alert to gratify the slightest wish 
of her charge. Nothing that might be conducive to the 
patient’s comfort was neglected. Mildred’s parents were 
daily informed of her condition, and Allan received fre- 
quent despatches from his sister. 

One afternoon the invalid, feeling stronger, insisted on 
being propped up in a sitting position, and then requested 
Pyrrha to read aloud. 

“ What shall it be?” asked the latter sweetly. 

“Longfellow’s ‘Waif.’ You remember you recited it 
at Madame Blank’s closing reception years ago. I have 
never forgotten it ; you put so much expression into the 
poem that it has haunted my memory ever since,” said 
Mildred, as Pyrrha took from the book-case a beautifully 
bound volume and complied with the patient’s request. 
In a low, musical voice she read the beautiful lines, and 
there was a thrilling sadness that touched the wayward 
heart of Mildred, as Pyrrha recited the third verse : 

** A feeling of sadness and longing, 

That is not akin to pain, 

And resembles sorrow only 

As the mist resembles the rain." 

When the poem was read and Pyrrha was about to 
put the book away, a sheet of finely written paper slipped 
from between the tinted pages to the carpet. 

“ Oh, you must read that, Pyrrha ! I copied it from a 
French journal, and it is really exquisite.” 

Pyrrha picked up the sheet, glanced at it, and found 
it to be an unfinished letter. 


76 


PYRRHA ! 


“ -Surely, you do not wish me to read this ? I am afraid 
you do not know what it is.” 

“ Indeed, I do. Don’t treat me like a child, I know 
what I am saying,” answered Mildred peevishly. 

“ But ” 

“Oh, don’t be stubborn now, but please me.” 

“Very well,” returned Pyrrha, and she read aloud the 
following, which began abruptly : 

“ You misunderstand the entire situation. I never intended marry- 
ing Allan Powell. I like him, because he is handsome and enter- 
taining, but never meant to carry it any further. True, I half 
promised that I might become his wife at some future day. but that 
was before I met you, Guy. Now, why of course I could not wed 
the silly fellow. Do you want any further explanation ? ” 

There was no name signed, but it was written in Mil- 
dred’s elegant chirography. 

The letter again fluttered to the floor, and a strange 
sound came from Pyrrha’s lips ; while the invalid, who, 
when she realized her mistake, had made frantic gestures 
to the reader, now lay back frightened and humiliated. 

After a pause Pyrrha said bitterly . 

“ Well, what have you to say ? ” 

“ Nothing. I — I did not mean to — to trifle ” 

“ Did not mean to trifle ? Why, you deliberately led 
him on. What were your intentions ? Why did you 
encourage him ? ” 

“ I — I — ” stammered the shame-faced girl. “ Pyrrha, 
I tried to convince Allan that I could not marry him. 
But young men are so persistent.” Growing bolder she 
continued : “ You must know that my father would 
never consent to such a marriage. We all admired your 
brother ; but he is poor— ah, there is the difficulty.” 

“ And if he were rich, what then ? ” asked Pyrrha, 
watching Mildred with angry eyes. 

“ That might make a difference.” 

“Indeed ! Yet you confess that you love my cousin 
Guy ! ” returned Pyrrha. 

“ I did not tell you so,” hotly responded the invalid. 

“ You expressed as much in your letter. Pray tell 
me your motive in having me read it. Was this the way 
you took to have me know that which you had not the 
courage to tell Allan?” The words fell from her pale 
lips with burning scorn. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


77 


“ I tell you solemnly, Pyrrha Powell, I believed that 
sheet of paper to contain a poem I had copied, and I 
do not remember now how I came to leave that letter in 
Longfellow. But, Pyrrha, won’t you forgive me ? I can- 
not help it if I do not love Allan ; I thought I did before 
I met your cousin.” 

“ Poor Allan ! Poor deluded Allan ! ” said Pyrrha, in 
a voice that made Mildred feel uncomfortable. “ Ah, I 
warned him of your worldliness,” she went on, quite 
unconscious of the appeal for pardon. “ To say that I 
despise you for your unwomanly duplicity is but true. 
You lured him on with your treacherous smiles until quite 
sure of your victim, and now you fling him aside for 
another. It was infamous in one who called herself my 
friend ! ” She quivered with suppressed anger as she 
spoke. 

“ You are cruel to talk so unkindly to me in my weak 
condition,” sobbed Mildred, hiding her face. 

“ True, I forgot myself. I will .say but a word more 
before I leave you ” 

“ You are not going, Pyrrha ? ” exclaimed the girl in 
astonishment, looking up. 

“ Yes. I had intended going to-morrow, as you have 
passed all danger ; but now — Indeed, I cannot endure 
the sight of you ! Forgive me,” she went on, in a voice 
low and pathetic, “ if I am harsh. God knows I wish that 
you and Allan had never met ; it would have spared me 
the conviction of your hypocrisy, and him the knowledge 
of your unworthiness. I shall tell Allan all, and trust it 
may dispel the infatuation which you have so adroitly 
woven about him. Let me beg of you to return his 
ring, which he believes sealed the engagement. Do not 
carry the deception any farther. Good-by.” And she 
turned to go. Mildred quipkly reached forward and 
exclaimed : 

“ Stay, stay. Oh, do not leave me in anger ! I am so 
sorry, for 1 admired you most of all my friends ; you 
are so pure, so noble that you cannot understand the 
temptations, the slow drifting into folly and sin. Pyrrha, 
do not look so frozen. Won’t you forgive and kiss 
me ? ” 

“Unfortunately I cannot play the Judas. I must be 
frank and tell you that not one spark of affection lives 


78 


PYRRHA : 


in my heart for you. Faith and esteem alike are gone, and 
henceforth we are strangers. Deliberately you wronged 
Allan, and the sin did not rest there. Ah, Mildred, 
had you only acted honorably in the beginning ; had 
you been true to your womanhood, to your professed 
friendship for me, — what a world of sorrow you would 
have saved me ! ” With this mournful reproach she was 
gone ; nor did she return as the girl cried out pite- 
ously : 

“ Pyrrha ! Oh, Pyrrha, come back to me, come back ! ” 
* * * * % 

Allan was reading aloud to his mother from Faber’s 
“ Sights and Thoughts in Foreign Churches ” as Pyrrha 
entered the parlor. They did not know of her presence, 
and she paused on the threshold a moment to observe 
the^picture. Her heart ached at the thought of pain she 
must inflict, for her brother was suffering almost all that 
the human heart can endure, — the anguish of remorse. 

She laid her hand tenderly on his chestnut head, after 
she had kissed her mother, and said : 

“ When you have finished reading, come to my room ; 
I have something to tell you.” 

He grew a shade paler as he asked : 

“ Mildred is — is not dead ?” 

“ No, I left her almost well, and she will not even bear 
a mark of the disease,” answered Pyrrha. 

u Have you had your clothing thoroughly disin- 
fected ?” asked Mrs. Powell anxiously. 

“ Yes, mother ; have no apprehension. 1 would not 
be careless in that respect.” 

An hour later Allan hurried to his sister’s room, and 
there listened to all that Pyrrha had discovered in the 
sick-chamber. It was a crushing blow ; but he bore it 
with more fortitude than the girl thought possible. 

“And I loved her so insanely,” he began, as soon as 
he could command voice to speak ; “ for this — oh, my 
God ! I committed sin ; for such a heartless wretch I 
have broken your heart. Oh, sister, sister, how swift 
has been my retribution ! And she, one so unworthy, has 
been the cause of my downfall ! ” 

“ Allan, be thankful that you have made the discovery 
in time. Think, if she had married you, and then learned 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


79 


to love Cousin Guy ! It is a blessing in disguise. You 
will learn to forget her, Allan ; and some day, when this 
wound is healed, you will find one more worthy of your 
affections.” 

“ You are a sweet comforter, Pyrrha, and after all the 
wrong I have done you ; but you cannot understand 
what it is to love.” 

“ Ah, you know not what you say. Allan, I love a 
man, a noble man, — one whose lofty nature could not 
tolerate vice and sin. I love him with all my soul.” 

“ And you are parting with him to pay my debt ? You 
are going to marry one man, while the image of another 
is locked close in your heart ? No, it shall not be. I 
have nothing now to live for, nothing to fear, since she 
has cast me off. What if the world learns of my theft ? 
What care I for the iron chain, since you, my sister, will 
be saved ? ” 

“ You forget our mother ; she ” 

“ She loves you as well, Pyrrha. You are her child, 
too, and you can comfort her when I am gone. ” 

“ But if Philip knew of your crime, he would shrink 
from me, he ” 

“ Do you mean Philip Everemond ? ” interrupted 
Allan in a hoarse whisper. 

“ Yes, I have loved him for years — long before he was 
free — long before I had any right to ; and that I possess 
his entire heart is my only consolation. Oh, Allan, I 
could not live to have him despise me.” 

“ And must he too suffer through my folly ? Ah, how 
little we dream of how our actions will affect others ! 
What misery I have brought upon you all ! Oh, sister ! 
let me go from you, go to the remotest part of the 
worfd ; let me exile myself from the society of all human 
beings ; let me feel the bitterest pangs of cold, hunger, 
remorse, and desolation ; let me be deprived of my sight, 
my limbs, and of all God’s blessings : then only shall I 
feel that, in a measure, I have made atonement.” He 
walked about the room in a distracted manner. Pyrrha 
saw that he was laboring under great excitement, and 
taking him gently by the arm said : 

“ Be calm, Allan. I know your suffering must be ter- 
rible, for remorse is one of the keenest pangs that the 
human heart can know. But you must not forsake us ; 


So 


PYRRHA : 


your duty is here with mother, and I, too, need you to 
cheer me, to comfort me, to help me through, for I do 
not waver in my resolution to marry Ivan Griffith and 
expiate your sin.'’ 

At this juncture a messenger arrived, with a package 
addressed to Allan. On opening it, he found it to be a 
budget of his letters. 

Mildred had called her servant, and directed her to tie 
up the many love epistles, and, together with the ring, 
despatched them soon after Pyrrha’s departure, not stop- 
ping, in her angry mood, to care whether she, by this 
indiscreet action, would spread the disease from which 
she was just recovering, or not. 

Allan laughed aloud as he tore to fragments the wild, 
impetuous letters, and fed them to the flames. 

“ See, Pyrrha, how they burn ! Ah, and here is the 
ring ! You, too, shall be buried in the same grave, keep 
company with the hot, passionate love-words which must 
have afforded my fair inamorata untold amusement ! 
How she must have ridiculed and laughed at my hopes, 
my fears, and tender solicitude ! Ah, fool, fool, fool ! 
The awakening is harsh, but thorough.” 

He dropped the ring into the red coals, and stood 
by, silently watching the consumption of all his boyish 
dreams, his faith, his love. 

The following day a large box came by express, and, 
unable to surmise its contents, Mrs. Powell called to 
Allan to remove the heavy cover. Pyrrha stood near, 
and watched her mother as she drew out the inner box 
and set it on the carpet. The next instant she staggered 
back, for a mass of snowy velvet met her view. 

“ Your wedding-dress, Pyrrha,” said Mrs. Powell. 

“ It is my shroud— my shroud ! ” returned the ‘girl, 
not looking at the point lace, the casket of pearls and 
diamonds, the dainty satin slippers bedecked with rare 
jewels, and the veil which completed the bridal outfit. A 
letter came also, an imperative command from Mr. Grif- 
fith, saying that his bride must wear the trousseau which 
he had selected, and that he wished to inform her that 
the wedding would be a public affair. 

“ Cruel, cruel fate ! ” moaned the girl, as Allan ten- 
derly wound his arm around her waist and led her away. 

If ever a man suffered reproach it was Allan Powell. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


8l 


His heart was wrung by pangs of acute agony, as he was 
forced to see his sister grow pale and droop like a broken « 
lily, as the day of sacrifice drew near. 

Again and again he pleaded with her to refuse to wed 
the man she loathed ; he even went to Griffith, and said 
he preferred to pay the penalty of the law rather than 
see the marriage take place. 

But the millionaire scoffed at the proposal, assured 
him that nothing could prevent it but the girl herself, 
and added that if she was wise and understood his 
power, there would be no further parley about the affair. 

Mildred Elliott was entirely forgotten now, and young 
Powell’s thoughts and anxieties were all for Pyrrha. His 
days were full of misery, and his nights were passed in 
sleeplessness, praying, weeping, and thinking, until he 
became a shadow of the Allan Powell of old. 


CHAPTER XI. 

The second of April dawned in golden splendor, and 
the crimson of the rising sun, tinging the grayish clouds 
until their appearance rivalled the rainbow, threw a warm, 
rich glow upon the peaceful, slumbering earth, awaken- 
ing the mass of human life, which slowly crept forth into 
the sunlight to taste the joys or sorrows of a new-born 
day. 

On land and sea alike it shone ; but there was a lin- 
gering tenderness in its touch as it kissed the hopeless 
countenance that, with wide, mournful eyes, had watched 
for, yet dreaded its coming. Gleefully the golden light 
danced among the shining curls, and lovingly — as if to 
atone for the sorrow that lay in its wake — formed a halo 
of glory about the shapely head, transforming the pale, 
rigid face into a dream of unearthly loveliness. 

Pyrrha had not closed her eyes in sleep, but spent the 
long, silent hours in prayer, and nerving herself for the 
ordeal through which she must pass. 

A strange calmness had taken the place of passionate 
weeping : the fierceness of the storm which had raged 
within her breast had spent itself ; but the footprints of 
6 


82 


PYRRHA : 


its fury were left upon her face, just as the tempest 
leaves its track of ruin across the fields where it has 
swept. 

Pyrrha put up her hands to ward off the sunshine, as 
if its brightness stung and mocked her misery. 

Then she threw around her shoulders a shawl of a soft, 
shimmering blue material, which lent a chill light to her 
features ; and putting on a hat, which was wreathed with 
a spray of delicate forget-me-nots, she left the house, 
and started in the direction of the “ Tenement Row,” 
where she had met Philip not long before. 

A rough Irishwoman sat at the foot of the rickety 
stairs, puffing vigorously at a clay pipe, and hugging a 
rusty pail which rested on her knees. 

At first she was inclined to be rude ; but when Pyrrha 
raised her large eyes to the woman’s face, the latter re- 
moved her pipe and answered all questions concerning 
Mrs. Giles. She graphically described Dr. Everemond’s 
efforts to save the poor widow’s life, and the pathetic 
parting between mother and child. With particular stress 
she dwelt upon the physician’s goodness of heart, and 
how he took the little orphan to his own home, and of 
the mother’s burial in consecrated ground. 

“Yes, miss,” she continued ; “I was jist after telling 
me ould man that the doctor will be makin’ a great lady 
out of the little thing, and then — who knows but that the 
purty creature will one day be his wife ? Them things is 
likely to happen in rale life, as well as in books, it’s my 
’pinion.” 

A pang of bitter jealousy shot through Pyrrha’s heart 
as the woman spoke, and the white lips murmured inaud- 
ibly : 

“ That will never be, for he loves me, ah, he loves 
me ! Yet, am I not lost to him ? Is it not possible that, 
after his pain has found a balm, after his heart grows in- 
sensible to its loss, he will seek a companion, one who 
will fill his house with laughter ? And when children’s 
merry voices echo through the place, will he not forget 
our love, our sad, sad parting ? Will not Pyrrha be 
buried in the grave of oblivion ? Ah, yes. Alas ! it 
will be so.” 

“Ain’t ye well, miss ? Ye seem like a-going to topple 
over. Wait a bit ; kinder brace up agin the wall, till I 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


83 


fetch ye a drink of wather wid a swallaw of whiskey in 
it.” 

The girl blindly put out her hand and caught the 
woman’s dress while she gasped : 

“ No, no. It has passed now, thank you. I am sub- 
ject to a heart difficulty which produces this faintness.” 

“That’s bad, miss. Ye don’t look a bit too strong 
either. Maybe this sad news was kinder suddent. Was 
ye a kin to the poor widow ? ” 

“ No ; I was merely interested in them, and I am 
rejoiced to learn that Nettie has a home with the doctor’s 
family, for she will never be in need of a friend. I am 
much obliged to you for the kindly information. Good 
morning.” 

“ Good morning to you, miss, and I do be hoping ye’ll 
get home afore anether one of them spells gets hold o’ 
ye,” said Mary Doyle, as she resumed her smoking ; and 
while she watched the fast-receding figure of Pyrrha, she 
muttered to herself : 

“ Aye, she be one of God’s creatures, but the angel of 
darkness is after wrangling wid her soul. I saw it in her 
face, and I ain’t one likely to be mistaken in my ’pinion.” 
Her soliloquy was cut short by the rumbling of a cart, 
and she hurried into the street to have the dull tin can 
filled with the chalky fluid which was dispensed to the 
poor of the town under the name of milk, and to hear 
the latest news, of which the chatty farmer gave his cus- 
tomers a generous supply. To-day the news was more 
than usually interesting. Mary Doyle listened with open 
mouth, and many exclamations of “ Oh, my ! Saints 
bless us ! D’ye hear that now ! ” etc., as he told of the 
great wedding which would take place at the cathedral 
that very day. He told of the groom’s wondrous wealth, 
of the bride-elect’s beauty, her purity of character, add- 
ing that he got his “ particulars from reliable quarters,” 
and intended going to the church himself. 

Before the town-clock struck twelve, there was scarcely 
a man, woman, or child who did not know of Pyrrha 
Powell’s coming nuptials. The daily Press devoted 
several columns to the event, which was the topic of 
the day. 

Men at the clubs talked in damaging terms of the man, 
shrugged their shoulders, and pitied the woman. 


8 4 


PYRRHA : 


It was thoroughly discussed by the beau monde, and 
women who indulged in morning gossip tore to shreds 
the garment of reputation which was of spotless white. 
They shook their sage heads, and discreetly advised each 
other to leave no margin on their visiting list, to give the 
adventuress no ingress to honorable society. 

All these, whose wagging tongues had made a sweet 
morsel of Pyrrha’s name until cruel gossip was satisfied, 
were at the church one hour before the appointed time, 
and waited with burning impatience to see the “shameless 
woman,” the “ disgraceful creature, who did not wed that 
monster for aught but his gold,” and to hear her speak 
the holy vow which would make her the possessor of 
millions. Philip Everemond hotly resented the many 
insinuating remarks, the lightly-spoken insults which 
reached his ears, and he eagerly sought to protect the 
pure woman whom he so entirely loved. 

He cut a huge bunch of white violets, with hearts of 
golden yellow, and sent them by Carl with the following 
lines : 

‘ ‘ Pyrrha, carry these blossoms to the altar, and let their fragrance 
remind you of my undying love. Philip.” 

The girl kissed the name with a passionate despair. 

“ Oh ! it is so hard — so hard ! ” she moaned. “ Why 
was it not Philip, — Philip, the idol of my heart ? Ours 
would have been a life of Christian impulses, worthy 
deeds, and unalloyed bliss ; while now there is nothing 
but shame, strife, and sin. Oh, what a future ! and I am 
so young. I may live ten, twenty years yet — and to be 
that man’s wife ! Oh, Death, Death, come to me, hold 
me in your icy grasp, and loosen my soul from its bond- 
age, from pollution ! Oh, grant me this boon ere reason 
forsakes me ! ” 

Before she could master her emotion, her cousin Guy 
intruded, and throwing a paper, containing the particulars 
of the marriage that would be solemnized ere the setting 
of the sun, upon the floor, he said savagely, while beating 
a tattoo with his cane on his highly-polished boots : 

“ You have fooled us all very cleverly ; but for the life 
of me I cannot understand your motiye for the secrecy 
concerning your engagement until the hour of its con- 
summation, unless you were ashamed to acknowledge 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


85 


your hypocrisy. Of course we all know you do not 
marry for love, but for his wealth, which supersedes all 
others’. You could not satisfy your heart with more 
moderate means, and wed a man who truly loves you. 
Oh, no ! You scorned the comparison ! I could not deck 
your golden head with such costly jewels as the million- 
aire has sent you, and consequently poor me stood no 
chance ” 

“ Guy Paulding ! How dare you ? ” She turned to 
him a face where pity, scorn and anger struggled for the 
mastery. 

“ Dare ? ” he answered with astonishing audacity. 
“ Humph ! better ask yourself that question. I have 
loved you for years, clung to the hope of winning you ; 
but to-day I understand how incapable you are of loving 
anything but the filthy lucre for which you have renounced 
all, for which you sell ” 

“ Stop ! I will not listen to another word ! ” she inter- 
rupted. 

“ But you shall. Do you think that after ruining my 
life you can lightly forbid my uttering a reproach ? Ah, 
no ! You shall hear my opinion of you, and receive 
my congratulations for your fine manoeuvring. You I 
believed so pure-hearted, unselfish, innocent of worldli- 
ness ; but, lo ! you are perfect in your art, and before 
our astonished eyes you bloom forth into a full-fledged 
bird of prey. The mask has fallen from your face, and 
the true nature of the woman is revealed in all its venal- 
ity and weakness. Weak ? Bah! I am a fool to flatter 
you. But mark me, fair cousin ! the glittering splendor 
that is within your grasp will not feed the heart for all 
time ; a day will come when it will cry out for food which 
you cannot give ; the hungry gnawing will rob you of 
the pleasure your gold has promised, and the fruit that 
your eager lips famished for will be Dead Sea apples ! ” 

He paused, and Pyrrha, who had listened to his impetu- 
ous tirade in dumb astonishment, said : 

“ If you have finished, I will speak.” 

“ What can you say ? ” he asked with a sneer. 

“ That I am amazed at your effrontery, your utter lack 
of good breeding. Your accusation is unjust, for you 
know well that I never encouraged your suit ; and if you 
cherished hopes of final success, they sprang from your 


86 


PYRRHA : 


egotism, and not my dissimulation. You are alone to 
blame for your disappointment. If you persist further 
in this annoying language, I must ask you to leave the 
house. My marriage is purely my own affair, and if I 
choose to wed with Mammon, who has the right to 
oppose me? Surely not you, Guy Paulding.” 

She spoke with a chilly, forced calmness, and her beau- 
tiful brows knitted into a frown, while her eyes flashed 
with a dangerous light, and her bosom rose and fell with 
suppressed indignation. 

“ Oh, woman-like you pretend to be offended because 
I have spoken the truth. You have destroyed my life, 
but of course this will not affect you as you proudly 
walk to the altar, unconscious of your victims, whose 
hearts you have crushed as lightly as I crush these fragile 
petals ! ” 

Ere she could prevent it he had seized the bunch of 
violets and cruelly set his heel upon them. 

“ My flowers ! Oh, my holy message ! ” 

She wrung her hands and sobbed, as the love-token, 
the quivering blossoms — Philip’s whispered offering — lay 
a crushed and broken mass of beauty at her feet. 

“You cruel, unprincipled fellow! I shall never for- 
give your vindictive act. This simple knot of flowers I 
prized above all the jewels, above everything I possess. 
Their precious sweetness was freighted with a comfort 
that nothing can replace. Oh ! oh ! ” And she stooped 
and tenderly gathered up the violets. 

“ Comfort, eh ? Pray tell me why a woman as callous 
as you have proved to be — one who is to wed millions 
of dollars — need cry for comfort ? Is there, then, a miss- 
ing leaf which would make the chapter complete ? ” 

“ Leave me this moment, or I shall call my mother 
and acquaint her with your unpardonable conduct,” 
cried Pyrrha, waving him away with an angry gesture. 

“ Oh, pray do not annoy Aunt Helena. I have too 
much respect for her finer feelings, and would fain spare 
her the knowledge of her daughter’s duplicity.” He 
fairly hissed the sentence, and, red with rage, chagrin, 
and jealousy, hastily left the house without ceremony, 
giving vent to a volley of remarks that were not compli- 
mentary to the fairer sex. 

Mildred Elliott was in a state of wild envy, and could 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


8 7 


scarcely control her impatience to see Pyrrha, when she 
heard of the approaching marriage, which to her worldly 
views was one of complete triumph. She did not take 
into consideration the man, the fetters, or the gilded 
misery of such a union ; it was but his vast wealth, the 
velvets, laces, and diamonds. The position in the fash- 
ionable world which Pyrrha would in the future occupy 
made her green with jealousy. 

“ And I was such a fool to throw Allan aside ! Oh, 
why did I not know of this before ? Pyrrha’s brilliant 
marriage will be the making of Allan, and I have lost 
him,” cried Mildred, as she hurried to the church, and 
risked a relapse of her recent illness, by standing for over 
an hour on the sidewalk, in the raw April air, waiting for 
the church-doors to open. 

A morbid curiosity had seized the town to see the 
bride, and the great building was thronged from floor to 
gallery. Those unable to gain admission remained on 
the sidewalk, and crowded about the marble steps, and 
clung to the brass railings. 

Already the sun was casting long shadows on the 
ground, and the tall, arched windows were ablaze with a 
mellow radiance that shed a soft lustre on altar and chan- 
cel, and enveloped the suffering image of Christ, making 
the face look more wan in the golden glow, yet the bride 
had not come. 

The entire assemblage were on the alert, while Griffith 
walked about the vestry in a cold nervous dread, fearing 
that at the last moment she would weaken and slip from 
his grasp. But then — woe to the brother ! At last a 
cheer from the sidewalk announced the bride’s arrival, 
and his wicked heart beat wildly as he muttered : 

“ Aye, a moment more, and I will own her.” 

As the carriage drew up to the canopy, all eyes were 
bent upon the queenly woman, who looked the embodi- 
ment of a poet’s dream. There was no outward sign of 
the storm that had swept across her life, save for the 
extreme pallor of the cold countenance. 

She took her brother’s arm, and they entered the 
church. The grand organ, with its fluted pipes, burst 
forth into exquisite melody as the bride walked up the 
carpeted aisle, unconscious of the multitude that had 
assembled to get a glimpse of her. 


88 


PYRRHA 


Pyrrha did not see her cousin, who stood so close that 
he might have touched her arm as she passed up to the 
altar. The “ Ohs ! ” and the “ Ahs ! ” that came from 
the many lips did not attract her attention ; the white 
face turned not to look at the great sea of human faces, 
but the eyes were raised to those of the holy Saviour, 
who had sacrificed His life for the erring. Never once 
did they waver from that patient, sublime countenance. 
Her lips quivered slightly as her heart cried out : 

“ Oh, dear Saviour, I am only human, You were divine ! 
I shrink from my duty — give me strength, strength.” 

The cobweb of a veil swept back from her face, touched 
the shoulders that gleamed like polished marble, then 
floated behind like a cloud of vapor, and mingled with 
the pearls and lace which formed the train to her exqui- 
sitely beautiful costume. 

All commented on the bouquet that she clasped tightly 
in her white-gloved hand, and wondered why the expen- 
sive flowers, which always complete the bridal array, 
were sacrificed for a cluster of broken, bruised violets, 
that illy corresponded with the sprig of orange-blossoms 
which nestled among the folds of her veil and were held 
in place by a large crescent of flaming diamonds. 

But Philip was not there to see the withering petals 
which seemed to die with the girl’s last hope. 

At the altar Pyrrha’s eyes wandered from the marble 
image and looked into those of her enemy. 

Not a muscle quivered, not a feature changed from 
their fixed rigidity as she said in a whisper : 

“ You know what I want, Mr. Griffith.” 

He seemed prepared for this ; for he instantly handed 
her a small sheet of paper, which she unfolded, and her 
eyes read the following : 

“This is to certify that I, the undersigned, hold Allan Powell 
entirely innocent of the robbery of the Commercial Bank, committed 
February the 2d, 18 — . And I agree to withdraw all charges of that 
nature, and protect him from all prosecution for that offence. 

“ Dated April 2, 18 — . Ivan Griffith. 

“Witness, Frank Drew, Attorney-at-law.” 

Pyrrha passed the document to Allan, and then stood 
ready to listen to the clergyman as he uttered the words 
that bound her to the man whose presence sent a shud- 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


89 


der through her form. She felt as if the last nail was 
driven in her coffin as the clergyman ceased speaking, 
— as if the light of this fair world was shut forever from 
her view. 

Why did she not answer ? What was the meaning of 
it all ? That document the groom had handed her ; was 
it a deed of property ? Did she carry it as far as that ? 
The spectators arose in their seats, and listened in breath- 
less anticipation for what she would say. 

Why did she hesitate ? Had her courage failed her ? 
Had those solemn words of the gray-haired holy man 
touched the heart of the mercenary woman ? and would 
she retreat ere her soul was lost by perjury ? 

Pyrrha had remained motionless for some moments, 
looking again at the thorn-crowned Christ for help to 
utter the simple word — “Yes.” 

It was all over, and there was a general stir, a low 
murmur among the people ; the music again filled the 
church, swelling louder and louder as more joyous it 
grew, and then seemed to escape among the fluted pillars 
and mingle with the breeze that bore it far among the 
clouds. 

Ivan Griffith offered his arm as they turned to leave 
the church, but Pyrrha no more noticed this action than 
she did the critical eyes of the curious that were bent 
upon her. She was looking forward into a vast pit of 
darkness, the abyss into which Fate had thrown her. 

Griffith grew red with anger as he heard the titters, 
the half-suppressed laughter, which greeted his futile 
attempt, and he said, just above a whisper : 

“ Take my arm ! Do not betray yourself to these 
people. Do you hear ? ” 

But Pyrrha did not hear ; he might as well have 
shouted to the marble saints grouped about the edifice. 

They reached the sidewalk ; the bride entered her 
carriage, and the groom seated himself at her side and 
feasted his eyes on her rare face, at times leaning so 
close that his shaggy brows touched her bare arm. But 
she neither moved nor spoke. Cold and silent as some 
marble image she sat, scarcely breathing, and evidently 
unconscious of the entire scene. 

The long line of coaches comprising the bridal cortege 
was driven to the railroad depot, where a special car stood 


9 ° 


PYRRHA : 


in readiness to convey the wedding guests to Riverside. 
But within a block of the station they were detained by the 
unloading of some lumber before an unfinished building, 
where the workmen were about to quit their day’s labor. 
The street being too narrow to allow the carriages to 
pass, many hands instantly joined in removing the 
boards, anxious to cause no delay to the wedding train. 

At a point directly opposite the bridal coach a hod- 
carrier was descending from a ladder ; his foot missed 
one of the rounds, and he fell to the ground, a distance 
of some twelve feet, striking his head against a pile of 
broken bricks. 

His companions hastened to his assistance, but he 
sprang nimbly to his feet and looked around in blank 
amazement. He was John Fay’s missing “pal,” the un- 
fortunate “ Clifford.” But now, as he stood erect, there 
was no longer the expression of imbecility about him ; 
no longer was he the “ luny ” who had amused the boss 
carpenter and his fellow-workmen with his droll story 
of being dead and long since buried, for the fall had 
restored his reason, and he was sane. 

“ Clifford ” stared hard about him, and his eyes finally 
rested on the carriage. First there was an expression of 
indifference, then perplexity, which finally terminated in 
a look of horror and recognition. 

He rubbed his eyes, advanced — then started back. 

“ Ah ! My God ! I know you again ! ” 

The occupant of the coach did not hear his startling 
cry, and his companions concluded that he was crazier 
than ever. Nor did they think it strange when he failed 
to appear at the building in the morning. 

The merry, laughing guests, who rather enjoyed the 
bride’s mysterious demeanor, were at last seated in the 
luxurious car, and slowly the train drew out of the depot. 
Pyrrha did not join in with the happy flow of conversa- 
tion, but sat apart, queenly, yet desolate, the object of 
envy, pity, and wonder. 

Presently the groom, foaming with concealed rage, 
approached, and bent over Pyrrha in a caressing attitude 
as if to whisper a word of love, but his hand closed 
around her arm with a vice-like grip, and he said, in a 
low, hoarse whisper : 

“ You are too serious for the occasion ! Already my 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! 91 

friends begin to whisper that it is not a love match. You 
are making a fool of me with your sad eyes and melan- 
choly mien. Laugh, I say ! Be merry, as behooves a 
bride, I command you ! ” 

And, as if to emphasize his authority he gave the 
snowy arm a dig which left his finger-marks beneath the 
pliable kid. 

Pyrrha stifled a moan and looked him fearlessly in the 
eyes. 

“ I am not your slave ; I scorn your command 

“ Did you not hear the clergyman say ‘obey ’ as well 
as ‘ honor ’ ? Do you forget your vow so soon ? Ah, 
wait ; I will teach you ” 

Griffith ceased abruptly as Allan came forward and 
seated himself by his sister’s side, ready to protect her 
from any insulting remark. He had noticed the little 
by-play, and his eyes gleamed with hate. 

Griffith, who did not particularly relish the young 
man’s dark look, made some excuse and went to the 
other end of the car, and soon his coarse laugh rang out 
above the other voices. 

“ Pyrrha, I do not think I shall accompany you to the 
castle, for the sight of his aggressive face, his air of tri- 
umph, fires my blood until I can scarce control myself. 
As he spoke to you a moment ago I felt as if I could 
choke the foul breath from his hideous body. I almost 
believe that I could kill him!" 

“ Oh, Allan ! ” gasped Pyrrha, a sudden feeling of 
terror seizing her ; “ do not think of such a horrible 
thing. Go home ; do not worry about me, for I am not 
afraid of his idle threats. It is most probable that I shall 
return with mother to-night, for unless he agrees to my 
mode of living I shall leave his shelter. Allan, if I can 
be calm, surely you can, and for my sake do not quarrel 
with him.” 

He pressed her hand, which she had laid appealingly 
on his arm, but did not answer. 

The whistle blew, and the train stopped at Riverside. 

A grand feast was spread in the sumptuous dining- 
room at Ravenwold, and thither the guests adjourned. 

The glitter, the music, and the laughter seemed to 
Pyrrha’s overstrained senses like the diabolical shrieking 
of demons who were making merry over their victim, 


92 


PYRRHA : 


It was with a sigh of relief that she bade her guests 
good-night as they left for their assigned apartments, for 
many of them remained at the castle that night. 

Pyrrha followed her maid to the south tower ; she 
paused for a moment on the threshold, for the splendor, 
and the glittering effect of the lighted jets on the polished 
marble floor and pillars, dazzled her. Truly the place 
was fit for a queen, but it failed to call forth a word of 
admiration from the bride. She sank into the depths of 
a white satin chair and endeavored to speak to the maid, 
but the girl’s glance of pity broke her icy composure, and 
Nature asserted her power in a burst of passionate tears. 

The maid, with a frightened expression, hastened 
away to the servants’ hall, where she gave the particulars 
to the amazed cook, who exclaimed : 

“ What ? the bride a-weeping, and she the richest lady 
in the land ? Saints protect us ! Her tears be an ill 
omen.” 

Pyrrha sat a long while ere her grief became subdued, 
then she arose, crossed the room, and opened the long 
French window. A strange sound attracted her atten- 
tion, but, as she was about to look out, Ivan Griffith 
entered ; and unmindful of the heavy scowl that clouded 
his face — for the wine had not sweetened his temper — she 
confronted him. In a voice that quivered, so intense 
was her emotion, she spoke : 

“ Sir, I understood that this was my apartment. How 
dare you intrude upon my privacy?” 

“ Your privacy, eh ? Upon my word, you seem to for- 
get that I am your husband and master here. I am in no 
humor to trifle. I want you to be sensible, and stop 
your whimpering. Come here and kiss me, as is your 
duty.” 

For an instant Pyrrha’s courage failed her ; she saw 
that the man was in a brutal mood ; saw that he was 
determined to make her obey and bend to his will. 

“ You forget that at the altar my obligations were at 
an end. I promised to marry you, but there our rela- 
tions ” 

‘‘What the devil do you mean?” he interrupted, 
threateningly. 

“ That I refuse to acknowledge your rights as those of 
a husband,” began Pyrrha, speaking plainly and decid- 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


93 


edly. “ I refuse to obey you in any particular ! and if 
you insist on remaining in this room / shall leave it ! ” 

“ By all the Furies, you speak plainly, too plainly. 
What have I married you for if not to have you caress 
and obey me ? ” 

“ Wife to you I will never be, and that you were told 
some time ago. I married you because I was driven to 
it. I bear your hated name not from choice, but because 
Fate decreed it ! But to feel your kiss, submit to your 
caresses, your hateful attentions — never! Never! I 
have lied at the altar, I have perjured my soul to save 
my brother, but, God helping me, I will remain spotless 
from your contaminating touch if it costs me my life ! ” 

She spoke fearlessly now, and the words fell from her 
lips in passionate recklessness. 

. Ivan Griffith was taken aback ; for an instant he cowered 
before her, then all that was brutal in his nature rose to 
the surface with redoubled force, and his face was livid 
with rage as ho spoke : 

“ Fool ! think you I am to be outwitted by a woman ?— 
a woman who wound her devilish spell about me only 
to make me suffer ? Have I waited these long years, 
nursing my hate and passion, to be cheated in the hour 
of my revenge ! No ! I swore to bend that proud neck 
of yours, and, if I had to, break it ! Where are you 
going ?” he demanded suddenly, as she walked majesti- 
cally toward the door. 

“ I am going to leave your house, sir ; anywhere from 
your brutal, offensive presence,” she answered coolly, but 
her heart fluttered with fear. 

“ You shall not go a step ! ” and he caught her arm 
and flung her back. “ I’ll give you one more chance 
because you are beautiful. It would be a pity to destroy 
such loveliness as yours,” he said mockingly ; then con- 
tinued savagely, “down on your knees and swear to 
obey me!” 

“ Coward ! ” she cried. “ I do not ask your mercy nor 
your pity. I kneel to no one but my God. ” 

“ You defy me, ha! ha ! Who is the stronger of the 
two, you or I ? ” 

“You, in brutal force ; /, in strength of will.” 

Again she moved toward the door, but he sprang after 
her. He would have seized her, but he recoiled as she 


94 


PYRRHA : 


drew a dagger from the fold of her lace bodice, and 
holding it in a firm grasp said : 

“You see, Ivan Griffith, [ came prepared. I am not 
afraid of you, and it will be well for you not to stop me 
now.” 

“ Well,” he said in a changed ione which threw her off 
her guard; “of course if you insist on leaving me I 
have no desire to prevent you. Forgive my madness of 
a moment ago, and if you ever regret this step I shall 
be willing to take you back. Good-by, my wife, for you 
are my wife, nevertheless, by law.” 

A mirthless laugh echoed through the apartment as 
she turned from him. She was within a few feet of the 
door when, with a bound like a panther, he sprang 
behind, caught her hands, and in another instant he had 
them both within one of his. The dagger he wrenched 
from her grasp and threw across the room ; it fell with a 
ringing clash on the marble tiles close to the open window. 
He smothered the scream that came from her lips, while 
he muttered : 

“ Threaten me, do you ? She devil ! You shall die, I 
will kill you before you escape me ; kill you as I did your 
father. Ha ! ha ! ” 

Pyrrha struggled desperately in the strong grasp of 
the swart fiend. Her hands were now free, and she tore 
frantically at the hand which shut out her cries for help. 

His greedy eyes became inflamed with a murderous 
passion ; his breath came in short, quick gasps, and his 
lips were drawn back from his teeth in dog-like fashion. 
Together they struggled about the room, and neither saw 
the face that looked in at the window, the hand that 
stretched forth and seized the glittering blade and then 
withdrew. 

The orange blossoms were scattered, the costly bridal 
veil was partially torn from her head, and became entan- 
gled about her feet. 

Griffith was dragging his victim toward the bed, either 
to dash her lovely head against the fluted column, or to 
smother her in true “ Othello ” fashion. 

“ Die you shall ! Ivan Griffith never spares ! ” cried 
the monster as he now raised the half-unconscious form 
that no longer resisted. 

“Nor //” said a voice at his elbow, and the next 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


95 


instant a strong hand tore the brute from his prey and 
dashed him aside ; while Pyrrha fell to the floor like one 
dead. 

The men grappled ; a fearful struggle ensued, and for 
a while it seemed as if the dwarf had the victory ; but 
the next instant there was a glitter of steel, a downward 
plunge, a terrible cry that rent the air and awoke every 
inmate of the castle, a groan, a heavy fall, and the 
master of “ Ravenwold ” lay dead in his own blood. 

A moment the murderer looked upon the demon-like 
countenance with a gleam of triumph ; then, casting a 
swift glance at the widowed bride, who was reviving, he 
hastened to the window as hurried footsteps echoed in 
the corridor. 

“ I have saved her, thank Heaven ! ” He leaped from 
the window and was lost in the darkness, but not before 
Pyrrha had seen the figure and caught his words. 

“ Allan ! Allan ! ” she gasped, staggering to her feet. 

“ Brother, save me ! Oh ” an awful shriek completed 

her sentence as her eyes encountered the still figure with 
the flood of crimson gore that was staining the satin 
shirt-front of his evening dress and the spotless tiled 
floor. 

She did not see the servants who entered, followed by 
the guests, many in their night robes, bearing lighted 
tapers. She bent over Griffith in a horror-stricken mien, 
and with dilating eyes looked upon the dead face. It all 
flashed across her mind that her brother had just done the 
ghastly deed ; and forgetting prudence, forgetting those 
around her, and everything but her horrible discovery, 
she exclaimed : 

“ My brother ! Allan ! My God ! What have you 
done ? ” 

“ Murdered my master ! ” shouted Sam the butler. 

“ You are mad ! ” frantically exclaimed Mrs. Powell as 
she hurried to her daughter. 

Pyrrha stood wringing her hands in frenzied dismay, 
while her veil draggled into the pool of blood. Her 
gown was torn and in disorder, and the horrified guests 
stood silent and wondering. 

“ Give the alarm, quick ! ” cried the butler, address- 
ing the other servants. “ Quick, before the murderer 
escapes ! ” 


9 6 


PYRRHA : 


“ The alarm ! ” cried Pyrrha, the danger of his situation 
forcing itself upon her. “ The alarm J No, no ! He 
will be lost ! lost ! lost ! ” 


CHAPTER XII. 

As the last carriage left the station for “ Ravenwold,” 
and the clatter of the merry throng was hushed, Allan 
Powell, who alone remained behind, entered the waiting- 
room and asked of the ticket agent how soon the next 
train for C was due. 

“ Two hours and twenty minutes,” returned Blake 
brusquely, without looking up. 

Allan asked no more, but went out on the platform 
and began walking to and fro in a restless manner. His 
head was bent forward, and his thoughts dwelt upon his 
sister’s troubles. He fancied he heard the entrancing 
music ; he thought of the flying feet, the flushed cheeks, 
the scene of festivity, which contrasted strangely with the 
deathlike pallor of the bride, the anguish that was rend- 
ing her heart ; and the groom’s visage, with his gloating 
satisfaction, completed Allan’s mental picture. 

Was Pyrrha doomed to live with such a wretch, or 
would he permit her to return to her own home ? 

“ Ah,” murmured the miserable brother, “ if she comes 
back to us I will devote the remainder of my life to her. 
I will seek to atone for all her suffering. But, should 
he not consent, what is there then that will snap her 
fetters ? ” 

“ Death,” came a voice as if from out of the darkness. 
“ Death,” echoed his heart, and the spectral voice grew 
until there seemed a multitude shrieking it. 

He thrust his fingers into his ears to shut out the 
sound that was firing his heated imagination, and which 
he felt would drive him mad. But then he saw skeleton 
hands stretching forth from the shadows and offering 
him long-bladed daggers, while the cry of “ Death ” sunk 
into a wail. The naked trees shaped themselves into 
gigantic knives, and the lights at the switch took the 
color of blood. He closed his eyes, but the tempter 
did not vanish, and in a fit of frenzy he rushed to the 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


97 


opposite side of the street and entered the small shop 
which was drug, grocery, and drygoods store combined. 
He called for bromide of potassium, but the clerk noticed 
his excited condition and hesitated. 

Allan assured him that of late he had taken frequent 
doses of the drug, owing to nervous prostration, and 
finally succeeded in obtaining the potion. After drink- 
ing it he returned to the station, and, finding that he had 
nearly an hour before the arrival of the train, made him- 
self comfortable near one of the dim, smoky lamps, and 
tried to interest himself in a copy of the Press , which he 
had purchased at the pharmacy. But the printed lines 
took fantastic shapes of nodding skulls and broken 
blades, while blood-red letters spelt the word “ Death,” 
and at every turn of the paper met his frenzied gaze. 
He tried to move, but his limbs refused to obey his will, 
and gradually his head sank forward on his breast, the 
printed sheet slipped from his nerveless grasp, and the 
eyes closed. The drug had done its work. 

The train whistled, stopped, and passed ; but Allan 
did not change his position, and slept on. Finally, as the 
agent was busy receiving a telegram, he was startled by 
a cry that came from the sleeping man, which caused 
him to spring to his feet. 

“ Ha ! ha ! I have killed you ! I ” 

Allan did not complete the sentence, for he was wide 
awake now, standing with arms outstretched, and dilat- 
ing eyes that looked about him in amazement. 

“ What is the matter with you ? ” asked the agent, 
coming into the waiting-room. 

“ 1 — I had a dream. I must have fallen asleep. How 
soon is my train due?” Allan wiped away the great 
beads of perspiration that stood out on his forehead. 

“ Your train ? Why, it’s gone fully twenty minutes. I 
thought you had taken it. Are you one of the wedding 
party ? I see you are in full dress.” 

“ Yes — that is, no. I merely went to the church. 
Can you tell me where I can find a conveyance, or when 
is the next train due ? ” 

Allan was confused, and trembled violently — the effect 
of his vivid dream. He fancied the agent observed it, 
and, lighting a cigar, puffed at it vigorously. 

“ You can’t hire a carriage to-night. They have all 


7 


9 8 


PYRRHA : 


been engaged to accommodate the guests to the castle. 
People turned crazy over that wedding. I heard that at 

C some shut down their business to attend the affair. 

A big bit of nonsense, it’s my opinion, and they couldn’t 
induce me to lose a day’s salary for a look at some 

coarse, ill-bred creature who could marry such ” 

“ Stop ! You don’t know what you are talking about. 
There isn’t a nobler, lovelier woman on the face of the 
earth than — than Mrs. Griffith ; and you will do well not 
to speak disparagingly of her in my presence,” Allan 
vehemently broke in. 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon. Of course I didn’t know, 
and I didn’t see the bride, for a telegram came in just 
as she got off the train, but the talk of the women is 
against her. You know, of course, that he is such a — 

gentleman, that his name alone is ” 

“ I understand you,” interrupted Allan sharply. “ How 
long before the next train did you say ? ” 

“ Midnight,” returned Blake. “ The express stops to 
take up the passengers from the southern division, which 
is due at the same time.” 

Allan buttoned his coat closer about his throat to 
hide the white satin cravat, then thanked the agent, who 
watched him curiously as he set out in the direction of 
“ Ravenwold,” whose brilliantly lighted towers were seen 
for miles around and attracted the attention of many who 
wished in their hearts that they could share the sump- 
tuous banquet which was served to the wedding party. 

“By Jove ! he looked bad. I bet he’s an old lover,” 
said the agent aloud. “ But what is he hanging around 
here for ? And strange that he should dream of killing. 
I suppose it goes hard with him to lose her. I can 
imagine his feelings. By George, if any one attempted 
again to steal my Blanchie, I’d talk of killing, and what’s 
more I would kill the wretch ! ” 

A frown darkened Blake’s countenance as he thought 
of the city “ swell ” who had used all his art to “ cut him 
out ; ” but, thanks to the good sense of his lady-love, 
the “ swell ” was unsuccessful, and left Riverside a wiser 
man, but not as pretty as when he came, owing to the 
hardness of Will Blake’s knuckles. 

The agent returned to his desk, wrote out his reports, 
closed the ticket window, and then ran across the road to 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


99 


his boarding-house, where he partook of a light lunch. 
He stopped at the pharmacy, chatted a few moments 
with the druggist, who spoke of his excited customer, and 
Blake concluded that he was the same who had fallen 
asleep and missed his train. After giving his opinion of 
the man, and that of the marriage, Blake returned to the 
station, took up an old magazine, brushed off the dust, 
and was soon absorbed in the “ Life of Lincoln.” 

He had not noticed how the time flew until the shrill 
whistle of the express caused him to start suddenly, take 
up his lantern, and hasten to the platform. He looked 
about for the stranger, but, failing to see anything of him, 
concluded that he had remained at the castle. 

The southern division train steamed up, and a few 
passengers hurried on to the express. The conductor 
waved the signal, and as the train moved slowly out 
Blake observed a dark object that caught the iron railing 
and climbed upon the platform of the rear car. As the 
figure stood erect he recognized the stranger whom he 
had been looking for. Wondering where he had sprung 
from, and why he acted so strangely, but failing to reach 
any solution, Blake dismissed the matter from his mind, 
extinguished the light, and was about to lock up when 
the gardener of Ravenwold rushed in and excitedly ex- 
claimed : 

“ For Heaven’s sake, Blake, telegraph for the po- 
lice ! ” 

“ Police ? Are you gone crazy, Benson ? ” 

“ Oh, Lord, telegraph ! There’s murder — my master 
has been stabbed to the heart ! ” 

“ Good gracious ! ” responded Blake as he relit the 
lamp and took up his pen. 

“ Hurry, man ! We must find the fellow before he 
gets away. Who would have thought it, and such a 
death ! ” 

“ Do you suspect any one who was among the 
guests ? ” asked the agent, thinking at once of the sus- 
picious stranger who boarded the train in such a myste- 
rious manner. 

“ Oh, Lord ! don’t ask me. I saw a man run from the 
south tower, which is where the murder was done. I 
didn’t follow him, because there was such a lot of un- 
earthly screeching that I half thought the place might be 


IOO 


PYRRHA : 


afire. Some one said the bride’s brother, Allan Powell, 
had killed him ; mind I don’t say so ; it’s only what I 
heard. But have you sent for the police ? ” 

“ I am about it,” returned Blake, and he sent the fol- 
lowing message to the police headquarters at C : 

1 ‘ Millionaire Ivan Griffith murdered. Suspicious character on 

express due at C twelve-twenty. Man might answer to the 

name of Allan Powell, who is accused. Blake, Operator .” 

Allan had gone but a few feet after leaving the train at 

C when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder and a 

stern voice said : 

“ Young man, I should like your name.” 

“ What business is it of yours who I am ? I refuse to 
give it,” responded Allan hotly. 

The officer showed his badge and replied : 

“ I have received a telegram respecting a murder 
just committed at Riverside ; now will you give your 
name ?” 

“ Oh, certainly. It is Allan Powell.” 

“ The very name ! ” exclaimed the detective. “You 
are my prisoner. Will you come along quietly ? I have 
a carriage outside the depot.” He signalled to several 
other officers who had come to assist. 

“ But I am innocent of any crime. I do not know 
what you want of me. Who is murdered ?” asked Allan 
as they hurried him into the carriage. 

“ Ivan Griffith, master of Ravenwold,” replied one of 
the detectives. 

“ Then the wretch is dead ? ” asked Allan, not realizing 
how detrimental to his safety was his remark, or observ- 
ing the significant glances of the officers. 

“ Yes, he’s dead,” was the reply, and Allan muttered 
beneath his breath : 

“ Her chains are broken, thank God ! ” 

He was so dazed by the sudden news that the full 
meaning of the situation did not impress him ; he was 
all unconscious of his danger, and of the fact that he 
was being taken to the station-house as a suspected mur- 
derer. But when the carriage stopped, and he was taken 
before the sergeant and searched, he resisted, and ex- 
claimed : 

“ What is the meaning of this outrage ? ” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


IOI 


“ You are accused of murdering Mr. Griffith, you ” 

“ Stop, there is some frightful mistake ; I did not attend 
the banquet, I did not enter the castle. I a murderer ? 
Why look at me, captain, have I the face, the look of 
such a man ? A murderer ? Great God ! what are you 
saying ? Why, sir, I was at the railroad station most of 
the time. Then I took a walk to keep awake, as I had 

fallen asleep and missed the first train for C . I 

walked by the castle to my old home, the Geer — Ah, 
my handkerchief,” he exclaimed, as an officer drew it 
from his pocket. All saw that it was blood-stained, and 
Allan continued to explain, for he interpreted their looks 
as expressions of conviction. 

“ One moment,” went on the prisoner, as he reached 
for his handkerchief. “ As I was returning to the station 
I heard the whistle of the express, and started on a 
lively run, for I had a number of yards to go. I left the 
road, cut across a lot, and in the darkness I did not see 
a rail which protruded from the fence, supporting a sign. 
I struck it with such force that it staggered me, and 
blood oozed from my lip ; that’s how this handkerchief 
became stained. I just caught the train as it was moving 
out.” 

“ He tells it well,” thought the officers, but they were 
more inclined to think that the swelling on the nether lip 
and chin might have been produced by a blow from the 
hand. 

“ I advise you to say no more,” said the sergeant 
kindly, “ until you have consulted a good lawyer. If 
you are innocent you will come out all right. In the 
mean time I am forced to commit you to a cell,” and 
turning to the officer he added, “ Take him to number 
ten, on the ground floor.” 

Without further orders Allan was half dragged along 
the dark passage and thrown into a narrow stone quarter. 
The iron gate clanged to ; the heavy bolt shot into its 
place, and he was alone. 

“An assassin!” he repeated over and over again, 
shuddering as he comprehended its full signification. 
“ Who has charged me with this fearful deed ? Who 
could be so base as to fasten such a crime on an innocent 
man ? Yes, innocent ! and they must know it ; Pyrrha 
can prove it, and mother cannot doubt it. They will 


102 


PYRRHA : 


release me probably to-morrow when they see their blun- 
der, and we will go away, far away from here, and forget 
what misery has been ours. Oh, God, I thank Thee 
that she is free ! ” 

He sank on his knees and offered up a prayer, while an 
unspeakable peace stole over his troubled heart. 

^ * 1 * 

After Pyrrha had uttered that wail of despair she 
passed from the room, no one caring to stop or question 
her. Down the long stone corridor she glided like some 
phantom bride, then out into the open air, down one 
path and up another. She wrung her hands and in a 
half whisper called : 

“ Allan ! Allan ! Allan ! ” 

But only the sighing of the dense cedars answered her 
mournful call. 

At early dawn they found her crouched on the vine- 
covered porch of the Geer house. She had wandered to 
her once happy home in her distraction, as if seeking 
the protection of the father who had shielded her in 
those halcyon days of old. 

Did she cry out in her anguish for the voice forever 
stilled ? and had the spirit hand stretched forth from the 
unknown realm to soothe the half-crazed brow ? 

They found her clutching a tender budding vine, 
while her head was bowed upon her snowy arms. A 
large black dog stood near, sniffing at the blood-stained 
veil which swept across the decayed steps and trailed 
along on the wet grass. Tenderly they lifted her head, 
that was partially crowned with fragments of lace and a 
few of the orange blossom petals ; but the sight of the 
lovely countenance shocked the beholders. 

The wide-open eyes were bloodshot, and unconscious 
of their surroundings. They still saw a ghastly corpse 
and a figure she knew so well plunging into darkness. 

The delicate cheeks were spotted with crimson, and 
the scarlet lips moved, but no words betrayed the wan- 
dering mind. They carried her back to the castle, 
which was now shrouded in the darkness of mysterious 
death. On the sumptuous bed gentle hands laid her, 
and for weary days she hovered on the borders of 
eternity. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


IO3 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“Why, Philip, you haven’t finished your coffee, or tasted 
a morsel. I am afraid there’s something troubling you. 
Are you quite sure that my marriage pleased you ? ” 
Martha asked anxiously. 

“ Yes, cousin,” returned the doctor with a faint smile, 
“ I am delighted with the match, and hope that you both 
may enjoy the blessing of a happy union. If I showed 
any lack of interest during the ceremony and reception, 
I beg your forgiveness ; I was somewhat disturbed in 
mind, and ” 

“ Oh, I observed that, Philip, it was too apparent, and 
more than one noticed that you grew white as chalk 
when Mason contrasted our simple old-fashioned way of 
becoming man and wife with the wedding at the cathe- 
dral, which must have been solemnized at the same hour. 
But of course that did not disturb you ? ” eying him 
keenly. 

“ Why is Mason not at breakfast, and Nettie ? I quite 
forgot about them,” said Philip evasively. 

“ He took the child for a walk, promising to return in 
less than ten minutes, but he has been gone over thirty, 
so I concluded to serve coffee, as you looked so poorly, 
and not wait for them.” 

“ It may offend him, Martha. Hereafter you must 
look first to his comfort. Don’t mind me, you have a 
husband now. But I wonder that he is so long. Perhaps 
you misunderstood him,” said Philip. 

“ No, he distinctly said ten minutes. I suppose, how- 
ever, that he is trying to counteract the effects of the 
wedding cake, which so impaired his digestion that he 
aroused me with several nightmares. And think of it, 
Philip, he has informed me of the distracting fact that he 
is subject to them. Oh, I am quite nervous and unhappy 
over the discovery,” and Martha’s face confirmed her 
words. 

“ There is nothing in that to make you look so un- 
happy,” said Philip comfortingly. “ I shall have to treat 
him, and we’ll soon rid him of the enemy. Cheer up, 
cousin, do not permit such a little thing to cast a shadow 
over the calm summer sea of your honeymoon.” 


io4 


PYRRHA : 


“ Little thing ? Why,” replied Martha in a shrill key, 
“ can you imagine the sensation of being aroused from a 
sweet dream by a cold hand clutching your throat, while 
a frenzied voice shouts loudly, ‘ Kill them ! Down with 
the mugwumps ! ’ Ah, that’s the kind my dear husband 
has, and I assure you they are quite distressing. If he 
had only hinted of this weakness before.” 

“ Oh, pshaw ! See that he has no late suppers, keep 
him clear of politics, and he will leave the ‘ mugwumps ’ 
at rest. By the way, have you mentioned my desire to 
have you establish yourselves here ? ” 

“ Yes,” responded Martha with a sigh, for she believed 
that the ‘ mugwumps ’ could not be so easily dispelled ; 
“ and though he hates the idea of renting his house,” 
continued she, “ he said, ‘ Philip’s wish is law, and we 
will stay.’ So that is settled, cousin, and I shall not leave 
you until you bring home a wife to preside over your 
household.” 

“ That will never be, Martha ” — he hesitated, then 
added : “ Please do not speak again on this subject, it is 
most painful to me.” 

“ Oh, Philip, what ” 

“ While we are alone I would like to ask you to look 
after Nettie’s education,” interrupted the physician, “ I 
am so preoccupied and busy, that I should consider it a 
great favor if you would secure a governess, or send 
her to Madame Duvall’s seminary — whichever suits you 
best. Also look after her wardrobe, and give her a little 
motherly care.” 

“ Ah, and motherly love,” responded Martha warmly ; 
“ for I cannot begin to tell you how attached I am to 
the little orphan. She is so companionable, so interest- 
ing with her sage remarks — ah, there they come now ! 
I must go to meet my husband , for he looks unhappy. I 
am afraid he is worried about the nightmares and my 
unkindness.” 

While speaking she snatched up a plaid shawl, and, 
throwing it over her shoulders, hurried to greet the hus- 
band of a day. 

“ Oh, doctor ! doctor ! what dreadful news ! ” cried 
Nettie as she bounded into the room almost breath- 
less. 

“ What is it, child ? ” asked the physician indifferently. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! I05 

“ Oh, such a terrible murder has been done, and they 
were married only yesterday.” 

“ Murder ? Of whom do you speak ? ” Philip’s 
cheeks blanched, and there was a strange sound to his 
voice. 

“ You remember Miss Powell, that — doctor, what is 
the matter ? Oh, doctor ! — Martha, Martha, do come 
quickly ; the doctor has fallen ! ” 

Nettie dashed from the room, and directly brought in 
Martha, who exclaimed as she entered : 

“ Sakes alive ! If he hasn’t gone and swooned. Some 
water, quick ! ” and Martha bent over the strong man 
lying half unconscious on the floor, tore open his waist- 
coat, and unfastened the necktie and collar. 

“ Great Jupiter ! What ails the doctor ? Fainted ? 
Well, that’s odd,” said Mason, who could not keep pace 
with Martha, and was now puffing from his lively gait. 
“ He must be having a bilious attack; that angel cake has 
upset him too. Well, old boy,” as Philip opened his eyes, 
“ what does this mean ? ” 

“ Mason, you — you must know all about it ” 

“ Well, I reckon I do, and I say it’s all the angel 
cake.” 

“ The murder, I mean ; who is murdered ? ” inter- 
rupted Philip, endeavoring to speak calmly. 

“ Oh, yes ; I never was so shocked or surprised 
before,” returned Mason, rubbing his chin in perplexity, 
as he began to understand the cause of the physician’s 
swoon. 

“ The whole town is running wild with excitement. 

“ I want to know who is killed ! ” broke in Philip, 
frantic with suspense. 

“ That’s just what I am going to tell you. But first 
let me get you a drink of wine. You ain’t looking quite 
right, you need a dose of ” 

“ Good heaven ! Will you answer my question ? ” 
and Everemond looked almost savagely at Peake. 

“ Yes, of course. But I don’t like to be abrupt with 
such a matter. You see, while we were quietly enjoying 
ourselves here last evening, that man Griffith, the owner 
of millions, was stabbed to the heart.” 

“ Stabbed ! By whom ? ” gasped Philip, and Martha 


io6 


TYRRHA : 


thought he was going to faint again ; while Mason took 
a sip of wine before speaking. 

“ The people say that the bride — ” here the sherry 
produced a fit of choking, and Philip started up, saying 
vehemently : 

“ The bride ! No ! no ! that cannot be ! Not she ! 
My God, not she ! ” 

Martha was stricken dumb ; never before had he been 
so wrought up, so beside himself with frenzy. 

“ I — I did not say it was the — the bride,” Mason ejacu- 
lated between his coughs. 

“It was the bride’s brother, they say, — Allan Powell.” 

“ Allan Powell ! Allan Powell ! ” Philip repeated, like 
one doubting his own sense of hearing. 

“ Yes, they have him in the Hanover Square jail now. 
He was captured on the midnight train. Here is the 
paper ; see, it is full of the affair,” and he unfolded the 
Press , which he had taken from his pocket, and read 
aloud : 

* Murdered in His Bridal Chamber ! — Millionaire Ivan Griffith’s 
Terrible Fate ! — The Startling Accusation of the Bride ! Her 
Brother the Murderer beyond a Doubt ! — Arrest of the Assassin.” 

“ That’s tragic,” said Mason, as he handed the news- 
paper to the physician. “ I never knew the jail to lodge 
two murderers before. Of course Olga Wilson’s case 
isn’t anything in comparison with this assassination. 
The death of the great money-king on the night of his 
marriage to the loveliest woman on the face of the earth 
— excepting my wife ” (with a beaming smile toward 
Martha), “ and by the hand of the brother, whom the 
bride accused, will afford a piquant and delicious morsel 
to the fashionable set who were yesterday green with 
envy. I think Moore had better take up Powell’s 
case.” 

Philip was not listening. He was rapidly reading the 
account of the tragedy. The scene as described in the 
paper completely overwhelmed him ; he dropped the 
printed sheet and motioned for some stimulants. 

Martha handed him a glass of wine, and after he had 
swallowed it he sat with his face buried in his hands. 
Mason beckoned to his wife, and silently they left the 
room. Netti® had gone to the greenhouse to cut flowers 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 107 

for the doctor’s office, which duty was now regularly 
assigned to her, and Philip was alone. 

“We will leave him for a while,” said Peake, as he 
softly closed the door and put his arm around Martha. 
“ He is deeply affected, and I believe he isn’t well. 
That cake, together with ” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” retorted Martha. “ Can you not 
see it is a most serious matter ? I have my suspicions, 
too.” 

“ Have you ? What are they, love ? ” and Peake was 
all ears, eagerly waiting for Martha to speak. 

“ Well, it’s my opinion that Philip had intended mar- 
rying Miss Powell himself. I believe he loves her.” 

“ Oh no, love, you are ’way off ! Why, if Philip loved 
her, he would have married her before this.” 

“You forget, husband, that it’s not many months that 
he has been free.” 

“True, true,” responded Mason. “But he could have 
made some contract ; a mutual understanding, you know, 
might have existed between them. I don’t understand 
how any woman could give up Philip — that magnificent 
specimen of a man — for such a moral monstrosity as 
Griffith was.” 

“ Ah, my dear, you forget the money. Think of his 
wondrous wealth ! Any woman would find that a temp- 
tation.” 

“ Would you ? ” and Mason’s brows knitted severely. 

“ Well, I don’t know, never having been tempted.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ Oh, dear, no ! ” laughed Martha. “ I only wanted to 
tease you. All the money in the world could not influ- 
ence me, especially after seeing you, Mason.” 

“ I hope not,” and Peake planted a kiss upon the lips 
so near his own. “ But Philip,” he went on, “ it’s pretty 
hard on him ; I never saw any one so changed. You 
really think he loved Mrs. Griffith ? ” 

“ I am certain of it. You see, dear, I would not tell 
you this, only we agreed to have no secrets, and I am 
going to tell you all I know. Sarah says that she heard my 
cousin walk the floor the livelong night, and that his bed 
had not been slept in ; that he called for stimulants sev- 
eral times, — this is something he has never done before, 
— and that he sobbed and wept as only a strong man can 


o8 


PYRRIIA : 


weep. Ah, he is suffering. If he would only confide in 
me it would relieve his heart." 

“Martha," — and Philip appeared at the door, — 
“ please tell Carl to put the span to the buggy, and have 
it ready immediately. Mason, will you accompany me 
to Ravenwold ? ” He spoke calmly, but he was very 
pale. 

“ Surely you are not going there ? ” asked Martha over 
her shoulder. 

“ Yes,” replied the physician. “ I am well acquainted 
with the Powells, and may be of some service in the hour 
of their affliction.” 

Martha gave her husband a nod and look which plainly 
said : 

“ Didn’t I tell you so ? ” 

“ Certainly, doctor, I am quite ready to go anywhere 
with you, even to the North Pole— if I can take my wife 
with me," he added to himself. “ But do you feel strong 
enough to witness such a scene ? " 

“ Yes, Mason, I am quite myself again. It was the 
shock that overcame me. Put on your heavy coat, for 
the ride is long and the air is crisp." 

“ You had better do likewise,” replied Peake, but Philip 
did not heed; he had gone for his medicine case, and 
then they hurried to the carriage. A few minutes later 
they were driving like mad toward Riverside. 

That day Nettie passed most of her time in the green- 
house, among the flowers and in watching the fishes or 
talking to her bird, for Martha had been caBed to Raven- 
wold soon after her husband’s and the doctor’s arrival 
at the castle; and Sarah had lost her temper over her 
failure to attract John Fay’s attention as he passed the 
kitchen window. The house was so lonesome, with no 
one to talk to save the old cat, that the child sought 
to amuse herself and drive away the homesick feeling 
which had been tugging at her heart since Martha’s 
departure, by asking John the names of all the different 
plants. 

Though he answered her promptly, it was rarely he 
gave the correct name of the flowers. 

For instance, he called the “Convolvulus” the “con- 
vulsion plant,” and the “ Convallaria,” after much thought, 
he christened the “ Convalescent ; ” while he struggled 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! IO9 

desperately to grasp the pronunciation of the more unfa- 
miliar species. 

“What odd names, John. Have you always been a 
gardener ? ” inquired the child, looking him in the face. 

“ N — o — o ! ” 

“ Then you are awfully smart to remember all those 
long names. Why, I can’t remember but one of them 
now, and that is easy, because I knew a little baby who 
got ‘convulsions ’ before she died. Do you think they 
took that name from the flower ? ” 

“ I shouldn’t wonder, Nettie ; guess I’ll know more 
about it when I’ve been at the business a year or so. 
Can you write a letter ? ” John asked abruptly. 

“ Can I write a letter ? Well* I should say so. Of 
course I don’t spell everythi?ig just right, but I will after 
I have been to the seam — sem — what is that big school 
called, John; you know, where all the rich ladies go?” 

“ Oh, that ? Why, that’s a Summary ; in plain English, 
a high-school,” returned John, sagely. 

“ Oh yes, that’s it. Martha says I am to go there. 
Won’t it be nice ? Did you ever go to Sum — Sum — 
mary ? ” 

“ No,” he replied, “ but I’d like to.” 

“Then where did you learn to write, and ” 

“ Oh, I can’t write,” he broke in quickly. 

“ Can’t write, and you are a big man. Oh, John ! ” 
and Nettie’s eyes were filled with wonder. 

“ Well, I mean to say I never tried ; I never had any 
one to write to. Of course, I could if I put my mind on 
it ; but just now my mind is on to something else, and I 
want you to write for me.” 

“ Write for you ! Why, John, do you think I can ? ” 

“ Yes, certain. Here’s some paper, and — wait till I 
find a pencil.” 

“ Oh, I must have a pen, and blue ink. I don’t like a 
pencil ; it looks common. I’ll run and ask Sarah for it ; 
and do you want an envelope ? ” 

“ Well, I ain’t particular. But mind you don’t tell 
Sarah what we intend to write,” called Fay after the 
child as she darted away. 

“ Now I wonder what I shall say; ” and John scratched 
his head in perplexity. 

“ It’s wonderful how I have taken to Sarah, the little 


I IO 


PYRRHA : 


I have seen of her. Now what kin I say ? Maybe she 
don’t like me — blit I kinder think she does — then maybe 
Dr. Everemond wouldn’t want us to get spooney around 
his place ” 

“ I’ve got it, John,” exclaimed Nettie, returning with 
a pad of paper, ink, pen, etc. “ I told Sarah it was for 
you, and she smiled and said : ‘ Shure, then, ye kin take 

it, if it be fur John.’ See what a lot she gave me ! Now 
what shall I write ? ” Nettie dipped her pen, and wrote 
with a scratching noise that set John’s teeth on edge, 
spelling aloud each word. 

“ M-i-s-t-e-r — Mister what ? ” she paused and looked up. 

“ It ain’t to be mister/’ said John, growing red. 

“ Oh ! then that sheet ain’t no good.” She tore off 
the leaf and started again. 

“ M-y D-e-a-r ” 

“ That’s it ! ” broke in John, delightedly. 

“ S-i-r,” concluded Nettie. 

“ Oh, no ! It ain’t a he” cried Fay. 

“ Oh ! then this ain’t no good either. That’s the way 
to practise, ain’t it, John ? ” 

“ I reckon so. But don’t practise now, for this letter 
is on my mind. Now don’t say Mister this time.” 

“ No,” returned the child, and she wrote — “ My dear 
Misses ” 

“ Sarah,” broke in John. 

“ Sarah ? You don’t mean the Sarah that’s in our 
kitchen, do you ? ” 

“ Yes, I do, Nettie.” 

“Why don’t you speak to her instead of sending a 
letter ? ” 

“Because — well, I — I can write it better. You see it’s 
a delicate subject like, and — well, have you got that 
down ? ” 

“ What, ‘ subject like ’ ? ” asked the girl. 

“ Oh, don’t say that ; wait, we are coming to it. Now 
say — First, I’m going to tell you what I was, then I am 
going to ask you to marry me in the spring — oh, it’s 
spring now — summer — say summer, Nettie.” He paused, 
and the scratching of the pen began in earnest. 

“ How do you spell * marry ’ ? ” she asked, suddenly. 

“ Marry ? Wait a moment. I think the correct way 
is in the newspapers. I’ve got it,” picking up a copy 


A STORY Of TWO CRIMES ! 


Ill 


of the Press which Carl had thrown in one corner the 
day before. “ ‘ Married ’ — * Died ’ — that’s it — m-a-r- 
r-i-e-d,” spelt John, slowly. 

Again the scratching went on. Then a pause, and she 
asked : 

“ And summer? I used to know how to spell that.” 

“ Oh, that’s spelt s-o-m-m-o-r-e. Got that down ? ” — 
and Fay leaned over to see how it looked on paper. 

“ Yes ; what else ?” asked Nettie, wiping the ink from 
her fingers. 

“ Let me see, — you’ve got summer down ? Well, now 
say, — I ain’t always been good ; I used to steal and was 
in prison ” 

“ Oh, John, John ! ” cried Nettie, “ is that true ? ” 

“That is.” And the man hung his head as the child 
drew back surprised and frightened. 

“ I thought you were always good. Oh, how wicked 
you were ! Why did you steal ? My mamma said God 
punishes such people.” She had dropped the pen, and he 
picked up the letter before he spoke. 

“ I didn’t mean to frighten you, Nettie, and you needn’t 
look so scared at me. I know it was a bad business, and 
God has punished me for it. But I am a-reforming now. 
I mean to be a good man for the rest of my life. The 
doctor told me never to marry unless I had told the 
woman of my past life. That’s why I wanted to write, 
for I am too ashamed to tell it.” 

“ But why did you ever steal ? Didn’t your mamma 
tell you it was wrong and sinful ?” persisted Nettie. 

“ I — I never had a mother, she died before I could 
talk.” 

“ But your papa ! You had a papa, didn’t you ? ” 

“ A kind of a one, but he used to drink and come 
home crazy-like, and beat me if I didn’t go out begging. 
I got tired of the lash, and took to stealing. That’s how 
I first took to the trade.” The man looked away, and as 
his thoughts went back to his miserable boyhood a half 
frown clouded his face and his eyes grew heavy with tears. 

“Poor John,” said Nettie sympathetically. “Shall I 
finish the letter, or do you want me to tell Sarah all 
about it ? ” 

“ If you will tell her, Nettie — tell it kinder gentle like, 
maybe she won’t think so badly of it. Tell her I shall 


I 12 


PYRRHA : 


never be wicked again, and if she can love me just a 
little at first, I’ll be the happiest man alive.” 

“ I will, John ; and I’ll tell her all about your father, 
and that you had no mother, or nothing else. I know 
she’ll feel sorry for you and love you like a good sister.” 

Some hours later, as Fay had occasion to pass the 
house, he saw Sarah watching him from the pantry win- 
dow'. She waved her hand, and the smile she gave him 
filled his heart with hope. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A fortnight had passed since the day of the tragedy, 
and Pyrrha, weak, pale, attenuated, yet beautiful, in a 
robe of white crepe, reclined on a couch of emerald vel- 
vet and waited for Dr. Everemond. When he came she 
told him the particulars of that fearful occurrence, the 
conversation which had passed between her and Griffith ; 
the struggle, her swooning, and her return to conscious- 
ness to find her tyrant dead. 

“ That such a terrible event should follow so closely 
upon my false vows seems but the curse of an outraged 
God. A loveless marriage — a barter — is a crime, and one 
not to be forgiven by Him. See what a fearful ending 
mine had. The shame of it, — oh, the horror of it all ! 
My brother — my own loving brother a murderer ! ” 

“ Pyrrha, I am sure he is innocent. You know that 
Ivan Griffith had many enemies — many who had just 
cause for animosity ; and one of these might have done 
the deed,” reasoned Philip. 

“ Oh, no. Ah ! had I only such a hope, Philip. But 
it was with my eyes wide — wide open, that I saw Allan’s 
form — with my ears distinctly heard his voice, and his 
words, ‘I have saved her, thank Heaven!’ Who else 
but Allan would have uttered those words ? Who else 
would have jeopardized his life to save me from the 
brute into whose keeping destiny had sold me ? No one. 
It was Allan — poor, desperate Allan — who forgot the 
commandment — Thou shalt not kill ! — forgot the pen- 
alty of such a crime ; forgot mercy, and his God. In 
my horrible anguish I cried out his name, and now he is 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! I13 

languishing in a dark cell until — until — merciful God ! 
Will they hang him ? No, no, they shall not ! Philip, 
we must save him ! We must ! Judge and jury must be 
outwitted, for they will convict him on trial. The evi- 
dence is so positive — my evidence ! Oh, Heaven, how 
can I stand up in court and swear his life away ? — his 
precious life that is my mother’s joy ; her boy, the image 
of her dead husband. I should go mad ! O brain ! 
brain ! let me think of some plan. Philip, help me, help 
me to save him ! I know it is wrong to cheat justice ; I 
know it is wrong to seek your aid in dishonest work ; but 
to whom shall I turn in my hour of need ? I would give 
all that I possess — and I am rich now — my life itself, to 
save him from the shameful death. I know it is a horri- 
ble crime, but he did it in a moment of madness. He 
must have heard my feeble cry for help ; seen our strug- 
gle, and, with the dagger that I would have plunged into 
my heart to die true to my womanhood, cut down the 
monster ! Oh, if you ever loved me, help me to rescue 
my miserable brother.” 

She slipped from the couch and knelt at his feet. 

“ Not there, Pyrrha, not there,” exclaimed Philip, as 
he raised the frail form and laid her back again among 
the cushions. “ I will do anything to prove that I love 
you, if you think that necessary, anything that is honor- 
able.” 

“ Oh, Philip, the only honorable thing' would be for 
him to stand trial, and that means death,” she inter- 
rupted despairingly. 

“ Surely you would not want him to run away ? That 
would fasten the crime upon him without a doubt. It 
would turn public sympathy, and were he recaptured 
there would be no hope of saving him. I know how 
strongly are the circumstances against him, and your 
accusation is the most incriminating. But he has the 
ablest counsel to defend him, and I firmly believe that 
they can prove an alibi.” 

“ No ! no ! no ! ” she cried. “ You are deluding your- 
self with false hope. He cannot prove an alibi, for not 
a single person knew that he went to the Geer. The 
station agent — ah ! he will be a strong witness, a damag- 
ing witness, — he will testify to the dream in the depot, 
Allan’s agitation, his visit to the pharmacy, and he posi- 
8 


H4 


PYRRHA : 


tively asserts that he watched him go in the direction of 
the castle. I tell you he will be condemned ! Philip, 
listen to me,” and her voice was thrillingly sweet as she 
continued : “ For my sake do not be obstinate in such an 
emergency — the situation will admit of no delay. Hush 
the promptings of your conscience, the voice of justice, 
and aid in Allan’s escape.” 

“ Impossible, Pyrrha, I would only be jeopardizing his 
safety. It would prove to the world that Allan was 
indeed a murderer and a coward. You, in your anxiety, 
your crazed condition of mind, cannot reason properly, 
or comprehend the fatal influence that such a step would 
have upon the community. He must stand trial. Do 
not look so hopeless ; perhaps to-morrow or this very 
day we may have a clew to the real assassin. You know 
the dagger has not yet been found.” 

“And should they discover it, they will find Allan’s 
name engraved upon the handle. Oh, why did I take 
that fatal weapon ? Philip, you do not realize his dan- 
ger. I tell you that they will convict him, for he is the 
assassin ! Why do you doubt me ? Think you, if I were 
not absolutely convinced of his guilt, that I would plan 
for his escape — that I would be so desperate ? ” 

“ I believe you were laboring under hallucination at 
the time ; I believe firmly in your brother’s innocence, 
Pyrrha, and so does your mother.” 

“ Then you refuse to aid in his escape ? ” 

“ Yes, Pyrrha, for it would be doing Allan an irrepa- 
rable wrong. Be patient, leave it in the hands of God, 
and trust in His mercy.” 

A faint smile, that was like the chill light of a dying 
winter sun, swept over her features. 

“ You no longer love me, Philip.” 

“ No longer love you ? Oh, child, if you but knew ! ” 

She laughed aloud in her weakness, — a sobbing, bitter 
laugh, — and said : 

“ If you loved me you would not desert me in my 
misery. ‘ Love has no thought of self,’ while you have 
but one thought- that of the world’s opinion. You can- 
not stoop from your lofty height ; the sublimity of your 
nature is far above the appeal of Love, and self is your 
first consideration.” 

“Oh, Pyrrha, you are unjust, unkind/’ 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! 115 

“ I should have known better than to solicit your 
assistance. Yet your refusal shall not deter me,” she 
continued in an excitable strain. “ I shall rescue Allan 
before the trial at the risk of my life. I am desperate. 
The thought that I must give my evidence, swear to the 
truth which will put the rope around his neck, makes 
me strong in my determination. You can speak 
calmly, view the situation dispassionately, because he is 
not your brother, because he has not sinned to save 
you from a living death. What can you understand of 
the fear, the despair, which is with me sleeping or 
waking ? ” 

“ My noble Pyrrha, I wish that I could honestly join 
you in your plans, but my conscience forbids, my judg- 
ment rejects, such a step. Do not be rash ; consider the 
consequences before you imperil his chances and your 
honor.” 

She did not answer, but a look of disappointment 
crept across her features as he bent his head and kissed 
her pale brow. No word of love, no word of comfort he 
volunteered, and with that cold kiss he left her. She did 
not call to him ; her lips were mute ; but the dumb agony 
in her eyes spoke more than a volume of words could 
have done. 

* * * * * 

The Hanover Square Jail at C was a large stone 

building situated on the outskirts of the town. The 
prison was partly surrounded by a tall stone wall, leaving 
only the rear, which terminated in the shape of a V, free 
of this extra guard. There was but one window, well 
barred, in this portion of the massive structure, and this, 
being so high, was never considered as a possible medium 
of escape. 

As Pyrrha entered the long, dismal corridor, a feeling 
of suffocation overtook her, and the turnkey led her to 
a window that opened out on the courtyard. Pyrrha 
threw back her veil, and soon the fresh air revived her. 
She observed a woman walking to and fro in the long, 
narrow yard, and saw that she was closely guarded. 
The prisoner raised her brown eyes with such a look of 
appeal that Pyrrha asked the jailer the woman’s name. 

“ Oh, she ? Why, ma’am, she’s Olga Wilson, the 


PYRRHA I 


I 16 

factory gal that killed her babe. Her trial has been 
postponed, and lucky for her too, for she won’t have 
long to live when that comes off.” 

Pyrrha doubted her hearing. Was it possible that that 
delicate creature with those soft eyes was guilty of 
infanticide ? Alas ! it was true. Her very fairness had 
been the cause of her downfall. She had confessed 
nothing during her imprisonment, but all believed that 
she would reveal the name of her betrayer at the trial. 
Much curiosity had been felt in the matter until the 
Ravenwold tragedy occurred. Now the factory girl was 
entirely forgotten. 

“ Here we are, ma’am, cell number ten.” 

Even as the man spoke he turned the key, and the iron 
gate swung open. 

The dim light revealed to Pyrrha a man sitting in a 
dejected attitude on the small cot. His head was bowed, 
and Pyrrha hesitated as she called : 

“ Allan, Allan, is that you ? ” 

Slowly he raised his head, and the wan, haggard face 
with the dry, glittering eyes frightened her ; but he stood 
erect, held out his arms, and the next instant hers were 
around his neck, and her bright head rested on his 
shoulder. 

“ My poor, poor brother ! ” she whispered as her fingers 
passed gently over his face and through his locks. “ How 
changed, oh, how changed you are ! ” 

“ I have suffered very much, sister,” he answered 
calmly ; “ and the fear that you might die in your fever 
without knowing that I was innocent nearly crazed me. 
I do not mind it so much now that you are well again, for 
I shall see you often, shall I not ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, Allan.” 

“ And to-day you do not believe me guilty of the crime. 
Do you, sister ? ” 

She did not answer. 

“ Your silence condemns me. I had hoped you would 
realize your mistake, Pyrrha, for indeed you were mis- 
taken. I am innocent — innocetit ! as I hope to meet my 
father in heaven ! ” 

“ Allan, it is hard to doubt you when you utter such 
words. But I saw you, heard you, and though I would 
give the world to recall my accusation, I cannot banish 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! 117 

that scene, — your form, your voice, and the conviction of 
your guilt.” 

“Then I am lost. Your evidence will be my death- 
warrant. I have no hope now but to die ! ” 

“ You shall not die! I will save you, though I must 
resort to desperate means. Do not despair. I love you, 
and were you a thousand times guilty I would be here to 
aid you. You must escape,” she whispered in his ear. 

“ That is impossible. I am watched night and day. 
Then no guiltless man would flee from justice. No, 
Pyrrha, there is no hope in that direction.” 

“ But if there should be an opportunity, seize upon it, 
Allan. You must get away from this horrible tomb. 
Once out in the world again you shall never be recap- 
tured. Be ready at any moment to obey my instructions, 
and keep a brave heart.” 

The jailer appeared and announced that “ time was 
up,” and with an encouraging smile Pyrrha left the pris- 
oner to go in quest of the warden. 

She found him a short, very stout person, somewhere 
about fifty years of age, with kindly gray eyes and smil- 
ing features. He was surprised at the beautiful face of 
his visitor, and listened attentively as she spoke. 

“ Mr. Hart, I — I have prayed God that I might find 
in you a friend ; a friend who would assist a lonely 
woman in the hour of distress ” 

She paused, not knowing what to say, and her embar- 
rassment touched the warden, who said: 

“ If I can be of any service, command me, madam.” 

“Oh, you can ! You can, sir. You are the only one 
to whom I can look for assistance. But before we pro- 
ceed, give me your solemn promise that should you not 
enter into my plans, my secret is safe ; promise that you 
will not betray me.” 

He thought for a moment ; then said quietly : 

“ I promise you, madam.” 

Then Pyrrha told him her story, her sufferings, her 
doubts and convictions. For over an hour she pleaded 
with the man, knelt to him, and tempted him with rare 
jewels, and gold that would keep him in leisure for the 
rest of his days. Yet he hesitated. The risk, the viola- 
tion of honor, faith, duty, all stood out grimly before 
him. 


1 18 


PYRRHA I 


“ Oh, if you have ever loved, have ever been a tender, 
loving father, for the memory of your children, hear me ! ” 

“ A tender, loving father ! ” 

Her words affected him ; a tear glistened in his eyes, 
and he saw again a group of happy, laughing faces that, 
years ago, had clustered around his knees. He recalled 
the little cottage with its vine-covered porch, and the 
faithful wife with her bonny face, and brave, helpful 
words as they parted on the quay. 

That was long, long ago. The vessel was wrecked 
whereon he shipped, and out of the large crew he alone 
was rescued by a passing ship. Hart drifted to foreign 
lands, and somehow he never could save enough to take 
him back to his Scottish home. Now, as the picture rose 
before his fancy, an uncontrollable yearning possessed 
him to see his loved ones. The fortune offered him would 
remove all obstacles. He wavered, and Pyrrha continued 
to plead. Ere she left the apartment the conscientious 
man had yielded to her entreaties and to the cry of his 
famished heart. 

The following afternoon, as the sun was sinking in the 
west, the prisoner in number ten was removed to the 
top story rear, to the room with the grated window, 
through which the warm, mellow rays of the dying sun 
crept in, and danced upon the bare floor and upon the 
whitewashed walls, as if to extend a hopeful greeting to 
the occupant. 

“ How glorious to see the sky, the sunshine, the fresh 
green earth again ! ” 

Allan Powell raised the window, and stood before it 
drinking in the delicious sweet air which seemed to 
breathe new life into his heart, and, like a draught of 
nectar, refreshed his wearied brain, making him strong 
and hopeful again. 

He watched the panorama of shifting clouds, and 
unconsciously his hands tightened around the iron bars. 

“ Oh ! to be out in the clear, fragrant atmosphere ; to 
feel the balmy breeze upon my fevered brow ; to go 
here, there, and everywhere ; to escape the watchful 
eye of the keeper ; to know you are honored, respected, 
and loved ; to hear the sweet prattle of children’s voices, 
and the music, the laughter, that fills the happy world ! 
Oh, what a heaven just outside of these bars ! I never 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! 119 

knew the world was so beautiful ! It seems as if I had 
come from a grave where for years I was buried from 
the world ; and yet it is but little more than two weeks. 
Two weeks ! two weeks ! but oh, what suffering ! Why 
am I here debarred from the joys of freedom, and 
mocked by a phantom gibbet, when I am innocent ? 
Why should I suffer for the guilty ? It is an outrage 
— a violation of justice ! Justice ! Ah, you forsook 
us long ago and took refuge beyond the stars. That 
is one of the joys reserved for us in the unknown 
world.” 

He shook the bar in the intensity of his passion, and 
to his surprise it trembled. 

What did it mean ? 

He was breathless with amazement, almost terrified. 
Cautiously he examined the bar, and to his joy found it 
had been severed at the top. It all flashed across his 
mind. He understood why he had been removed from 
the dark, cold cell ; he understood the warden’s glance 
now. He was to escape ! Pyrrha had succeeded ! He 
was to go forth from this seeming death and feel what it 
was to live again ! 

The sudden change from despair was wonderful ; his 
face grew radiant ; the dark lines of suffering seemed to 
vanish, and the glitter of the eyes disappeared ; their 
expression softened, and with a sob that shook his frame, 
tears — tears of joy — filled their depths and rolled over his 
cheeks. 

He heard voices in the corridor, and, as he bent his 
head to listen, a frown darkened his countenance, for he 
recognized one of the speakers as his cousin Guy. He 
heard the gruff voice of the jailer, then the jingling of 
silver, a moment more the door was unlocked, and Guy 
Paulding entered. 

“ Since it is so important, ye can have just five minutes, 
mind now,” and the turnkey withdrew. 

“ Well, Allan, old boy, I hope you are glad to see a 
fellow. Goodness ! How changed you are ! Why, I 
swear that your hair is as white as my cuffs, and your 
face — Jove ! What would Mildred say ? ” 

“ Whatever she pleases. It would not concern me, 
and I should like to know the motive of your visit, Guy 
Paulding,” said Allan coolly. 


120 


PYRRHA : 


“ My motive ? Mere friendliness, dear boy. But by 
Jove you don’t appreciate it ! ” 

" No,” responded Powell, “ I do not want your friend- 
ship. I do not want to see you — excuse me, I do not 
wish to take your hand,” as Guy held his toward his 
cousin. 

“ Oh, indeed ! You are rather a high rider for one in 
your position. Are you aware that you are standing 
within the shadow of the gallows ? Ah, you are, I see,” 
as he observed a long, quivering shudder pass over 
Allan’s frame ; “ then it ill becomes you to refuse to take 
the hand of an honest man. Perhaps, though, you are 
conscious of the pollution which clings to yours. Ah, I 
give you credit for your common sense. So you don’t 
wish to see me, eh ? I suppose you cannot forgive me 
for having unconsciously stolen Mildred’s love. You 
were insanely jealous of me, and I assure you it was 
groundless, for she is to marry her father’s partner, Fred- 
erick Potts. You know he is worth ” 

“ I want you to leave me, Guy Paulding, and if you 
know what’s good for you, go at once,” interrupted Allan, 
with an effort keeping his temper. 

“ Oh, don’t get huffy, old fellow, it won’t improve your 
situation. Your temper has got you, no doubt, into this 
scrape, for of course you didn’t deliberately murder the 
old fellow for his money, eh ? Now keep cool ! There’s 
no good in ranting ; and let me advise you a little, — 
don’t get nervous at the trial ; nothing betrays a man so 
quickly. Here, take a cigar and compose yourself. No! 
Well, as you please. Can I do anything else for you ? 
Take a message to Aunt Helena, or to — Mildred ? You 
won’t answer, eh ? Sulky, are you ? Well, if that’s your 
policy so be it.” Going toward the door Guy continued, 
“ Too bad you couldn’t enjoy your money. Never mind, 
Pyrrha will donate it to some charitable institution, and 
so in a measure make atonement and secure for you a 
reserved seat in ” 

“ Time up ! ” interrupted the jailer, swinging open the 
door. 

“ Good-by, Allan ; I hope you’ll enjoy your lofty 
ascent. Ta-ta ! ” With a mocking laugh he went. 

“ Thank Heaven ! If he had not gone I should have 
forgotten myself. If he — my cousin — can taunt me so 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


1 2 I 


cruelly, what will the world not say ? They believe me 
a murderer, a wretch unworthy of pity ; a murderer, who 
broke the laws of God and man. If I cannot prove my 
innocence, what then ? ” 

Allan groaned aloud, and when he closed his eyes there 
arose before his vision a tall, slim figure with the black 
cap drawn tightly over the terror-stricken features. He 
saw the convulsive motion of the hands, the writhing of 
the body, the howling mob, the clergyman, and his moth- 
er’s anguish. 

“ Should all this come to pass ? ” he asked himself. 

Again the door opened, and a dim light lit up the 
room, while his supper was brought in and left upon the 
pine table, but he did not taste it. An hour later the 
warden looked in to see if the prisoner was “ all right ” 
in his new quarters, and, while talking, managed to hand 
Allan a roll of paper, which the latter found to conceal 
a small file, and on a tiny slip a word from Pyrrha, 
which read : 

“ Work cautiously ; remove the centre bar before mid- 
night, and watch.” Allan chewed the tissue paper and 
swallowed it. 

Dark clouds had overspread the heavens, and a driv- 
ing rain, accompanied by a gale of wind, set in. This 
was favorable, for it disguised the sound of the file, as 
patiently the prisoner worked on. When the inspector 
looked in he found things all right and the prisoner 
apparently asleep. He went toward the window, and 
Allan’s heart beat almost to suffocation as he watched 
the man from between partly closed eyes. 

Would he examine the bars ? 

It was a moment of breathless agony. But fortune 
favored him. With a nod of satisfaction, the inspector 
departed and hastened to the warden’s apartment, where 
all the other officers had already congregated. Hart was 
just in receipt of a cable despatch which informed him of 
his daughter’s marriage, and in honor of the event he 
invited all hands to drink a glass of good old wine to the 
future happiness of the bride. 

The men, only too fond of the beverage, drank lustily 
amidst their congratulating and handshaking, and, after 
a social twenty minutes, returned to their assigned duties. 
Their parting glass had been cautiously prepared, how- 


122 


PYRRHA : 


ever, and soon the guards and the turnkeys were seized 
with a lethargy which they were powerless to resist. The 
steady tramp grew fainter, and soon ceased. 

In the mean time the prisoner had worked incessantly, 
and ere the town clock struck twelve the bar was filed in 
two. The silence was ominous, and Allan trembled for 
what he had done. Would the hour of midnight never 
arrive ? His suspense was terrible. At last there was 
a faint sound in the corridor ; another moment, and the 
door noiselessly opened and a dark figure entered. 

“Hist! Is all ready?” 

“ Yes,” whispered Allan, who recognized the warden. 

“ Then we must work quickly. Be careful to make no 
noise.” As Hart spoke he unwound about thirty feet of 
fine, strong rope from his body, and began to fasten one 
end of it to the remaining iron bars. 

The town clock rang out clear and loud, while the 
clouds began to break and the rain ceased. 

“ Ah, there’s the signal ! ” exclaimed the warden, and 
Allan saw the faint light of a lantern about one hundred 
yards away from the prison. It was swung around three 
times in rapid succession, and Hart whispered : 

“ That’s your sister. Climb out of the window, — here’s 
the rope, and descend quickly. I don’t know how long 
the drug may work on those fellows. There, are you 
ready ? Hold on for your life, and quit the place at 
once. I hope some day you can prove your innocence. 
Oh, don’t thank me ! I am well paid — fifty thousand 
dollars at the least. Your sister is a wonderful woman ! 
There, good-by. If you are ever brought back, don’t 
tell of my hand in this affair.” 

Allan pressed the warden’s hand, and, with words of 
gratitude, swung himself from the window and rapidly 
descended to the ground. He started off on a run, and 
when the lantern again signalled, Hart knew that the 
prisoner was with his sister. 

Pyrrha clasped Allan in her arms, and whispered : 

“ God be praised ! ” 

She wore male attire, and had come on horseback. 
She led Allan to where her horse was standing, and tak- 
ing a bundle from the saddle, said : 

“ Here is the garb of a priest, don it quickly, and then 
we will ride to B , where you can catch the train for 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


123 


New York. You will find mother disguised as a nun 
at the railroad depot. She left here several days ago. 
Together you will take passage on a European steamer, 
which sails in less than an hour after the train’s arrival. 
Are you ready? Yes, that will do very nicely. Good 
heavens ! Your mustache ! I had forgotten that. No 
priest was ever seen with that mark of vanity. What are 
we to do ? ” 

“ Have you scissors, or a knife ? ” asked Allan, after a 
moment’s thought. 

“ Ah, yes ; lucky thought ! I placed both in the pocket 
of your dress, thinking you might need them in some 
such emergency.” 

In a moment Allan had* removed his silken mustache, 
and this done they both mounted “ Satan,” and taking a 
road which was only used by woodcutters, dashed off in 
the darkness. 

Hart stood for some moments at the window after 
Powell had disappeared, and pondered on the situation. 
Truly it was a perilous one, and great beads of perspi- 
ration started out on his neck and face as he thought of 
the consequences should he be discovered as an acces- 
sary to the prisoner’s escape. But who would ever know 
of it ? It was not likely that the guards would suspect 
him of having drugged the wine. They would naturally 
attribute their drowsiness to the mixing of liquors, and 
he felt confident that they would keep the result of their 
misdemeanor a profound secret. And he was right in 
his conjectures. 

Hart thought of the money and diamonds which he 
had carefully hidden away, and of the joy in the little 
cottage when he should return home to them — return 
rich — and for a moment the picture of happiness obliter- 
ated the sense of his wrong-doing. He started to untie 
the rope, meaning to carry it away in the same manner 
in which he had brought it, when he heard a noise in the 
corridor. He listened with bated breath, and the noise 
grew louder ; he imagined he heard approaching foot- 
steps, and the sound of a voice calling his name. Poor 
fellow ! had he only known that, in the ward just opposite, 
a prisoner had been seized with another attack of the 
horrors, and was kicking at the door of his cell while call- 
ing loudly for the jailer. 


124 


PYRRHA : 


Hart grew frantic with fear. Were they coming after 
him ? Had they seen Powell escape ? A thousand ques- 
tions shot with lightning rapidity through his brain. 
How should he escape ? What would he tell them ? 
Suddenly it occurred to him to escape by th*e rope. Why 
not ? His fortune was secreted in a corner of the old 
stone wall ; he could get it and leave immediately. In 
his terror he forgot that he had partly loosened the knot ; 
forgot that he was as heavy again as Powell. Without a 
moment’s hesitation he swung himself from the window, 
seized the rope, and to his horror it gave, — O God ! it 
gave ! An instant he hung in mid-air, then the heavy 
body was precipitated from the great height, and, with a 
sickening sound, struck the flagging below. The hand 
quivered, then all was still, and Hart lay dead with a 
broken neck. 

The moon crept forth from the clouds, and for a mo- 
ment shone upon the still face ; then, as if in sympathy, 
hid again behind the veil of darkness, and so the night 
slept on. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Six months elapsed, and still the vigilant eyes of the 
law failed to penetrate the mystery which shrouded Allan 
Powell’s disappearance. Every clew, when followed up, 
resulted in disappointment, and, though they were pro- 
ficient, keen, and cautious, the officials were frustrated 
by the adroit management of the anxious woman who 
watched every movement with breathless suspense. She 
seemed cognizant of every detail, and her active brain 
wove ingenious plans which led the detectives entirely 
astray. 

Pyrrha drew a long breath of relief when she knew 
that Allan and his mother were safely residing in the 
heart of London, living in a manner which aroused no 
suspicion, and the former never venturing out from his 
safe retreat except when the shadows of night offered a 
friendly mantle of protection. 

Allan sought to overcome his fears by devoting his 
time to his former study of law, and there was scarcely a 


A STORY OF TWO CR 


moment during the day that he was nc 
in his books. 

He had grown prematurely old since . 
murder ; the light garment of youth, wi 
folly, had slipped from his shoulders, and 
by the garb of sage manhood, heavy with t* 0 AV of 
bitter repentance. 

As days lengthened into weeks, and weeks into months, 
the excitement at C produced by the supposed mur- 

derer's escape, and by the tragic ending of the warden — 
who all believed had risked his life in making a hasty 
descent to recapture the prisoner — subsided, though 
many pointed toward the castle, and declared that the 
wealth and beauty of its mistress had secured to the 
assassin his escape. This idle gossip was not acted upon, 
however, although it was a well-known fact that Ivan 
Griffith had left a codicil to his will, which bequeathed 
his entire estates — his vast fortune — to his wife, should 
he marry Pyrrha Powell. 

The many sensational episodes that had of late dis- 
turbed the town led the people to expect a grand finale 
ere all would settle back into the old rut of unbroken 
monotony which had characterized the place for so many 
years. 

On tiptoe they waited in anticipation of the next event, 
and it came in the shape of a startling bankruptcy. 

In an imposing brown-stone dwelling, not ten squares 
from her father’s palatial residence, stood Mildred Potts, 
now the wife of her father’s partner, and a bride of four 
short months. In her small jewelled hand she held a 
daily paper, and with wide, staring eyes read at a glance 
the fatal news. 

“ Failed ' The staunch firm of Potts & Elliott, coal operators. 
It is said that their liabilities will exceed five hundred thousand 
dollars, which their assets are inadequate to meet.” 

. “ What do I read ? Great heaven ! have I gone mad ? ” 
And again, as if doubting her eyes, she re-read — while 
holding the paper in a convulsive grasp— the paragraph ; 
then, with a cry of rage and disappointment, staggered to 
a chair. 

Her husband entered the room, and a scene ensued 
which was highly dramatic. 


PYRRHA : 


was frightfully pale, and the usually 
ice was haggard and seamed with care, 
was in disorder, and he ran his fingers 
ough the spare locks until they stood on 
jasy to see that the man was in an excited 
framv . ^md ; his collar was hanging by one end, his 
tie was gone, and his shoes were unbuttoned. 

He had evidently dressed in a hurry, and sought his 
wife, and when he found her in a paroxysm of tears he 
was in dismay. 

“You have heard the news, I see. Who brought you 
the paper, Mildred ? Last night I forbade the servants, 
because I wanted to save you the shock. Oh, darling, 
do not cry so,” he said, tenderly, trying to comfort her ; 
but she sprang to her feet like a young tigress, and 
exclaimed : 

“ This, then, explains your absence from home for the 
past day and night ! This is why you cut short our 
European tour, and refused to purchase a house abroad ! 
Speak ! Are we beggars ? ” 

“ Calm yourself, my dear. This fatal newspaper ” 

“You do not deny the report,” she interrupted, with 
flashing eyes. “ If this horrible affair is true, I shall die 
with the disgrace — indeed I shall ! ” 

“ Poor Mildred ! Alas, what shall I say ? I know it 
is hard to return home to find that misfortune has 
usurped the place of affluence ; but be patient. I will 
struggle hard for you, and then, darling, we have each 
other’s love left to make us happy.” 

“ Love ! ” she exclaimed savagely, pushing away his 
caressing hand. “ What is love in an hour like this ? 
Oh, miserable creature, how I have been deceived ! I 
believed you rich, — why did you not undeceive me ? My 
whole life is ruined now.” And again she flung herself 
into a chair, and gave herself up to a fit of passionate 
weeping. 

The poor husband was at his wits’ end. What should 
he say ? What could he do to soothe her ? He was 
very fond of his pretty young wife, and her grief dis- 
tressed him more than his heavy losses.' 

“ Mildred, I know it is terrible for you to bear, but 
think what my pain must be. To lose all in a single 
night, which took years of constant toil to accumulate, is 


A STORY OF TWO CRIM 


a bitter trial. Then failure means the ii 
return to business, for your credit is gom 
tige ” 

“ Oh, enough, Frederick Potts ! What is a 
comparison to my loss, my wounded pride, an. 
pointment? You are an old man, well nigh doi;J '.ua 
this world’s pleasures ; while I — I was just sailing out 
into the sea o f life, and through your indiscretion my 
barge of happiness has struck the rock, and my hopes, 
my fond ambitions, are shattered. What have I now ? 
Nothing, absolutely nothing ! ” 

“ You forget, dear, that you have your husband, one 
who will work night and day for you.” 

“Bah!” snapped Mildred, “what will the wages of 
toil amount to ? Do you propose to purchase therewith 
my horses, jewels, and luxuries ? I married you for your 
gold, and ” 

“Mildred,” he interrupted. “Oh, do not say that. I 
cannot believe that you are so unwomanly. My love is 
so sincere, so honest,” and his voice grew husky. 

“ Oh, you are too sentimental. This life is too short 
for such nonsense. You must remember that, ‘ when 
poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the 
window.’ Had you been honorable you would have 
told me the condition of your finances, and left it to my 
conscience whether I could have married you then, or 
not.” 

For a moment he seemed unable to answer. 

“My finances,” he began slowly, “were in no condi- 
tion to apprehend so disastrous a conclusion. My pres- 
ent crippled position is entirely due to your father’s 
injudicious management and speculations during my 
brief absence abroad.” He spoke like one in great pain. 

“ Oh, certainly,” retorted Mildred sarcastically. “ My 
father must now bear the responsibility. You think this 
will in a measure justify your unscrupulous conduct, but 
it only adds to your unworthiness. Oh ! to think that I 
am your wife, the wife of a decrepit beggar ! ” 

“ This is a revelation ! ” gasped Potts. “ Great Heaven, 
how I have been duped ! For my money, you say ? 
Oh, miserable woman, your punishment is but just. I 
would have spared you the knowledge of the bankruptcy 
were that possible. I had intended retaining this house 


pyrrha: 


you as comfortable as my means would 
now — now that I know your true character — 
^ sold, and every dollar shall go toward paying 
,ors, while you must become accustomed to the 
ere of a boarding-house.” 

lixa iips were drawn to a fine line, and a cold glitter 
shone in the eyes that were so full of love and sympathy 
but a moment ago. One look at her husband sufficed to 
convince Mildred that her reign was over. She tore up 
and down the room in a reckless, frantic manner, sweep- 
ing down from their pedestals delicate pieces of bric-a- 
brac, which were shivered into fragments and strewed the 
carpet with their costly bits. Potts thought how like a 
tempest was a woman’s anger ; the destruction in this 
mood he likened to that in the wake of a storm. 

“ Toa boarding-house ! ” she finally exclaimed, choking 
with angry sobs, “ I will never submit, never — never ! I 
will return to my father, and he shall know of your 
tyranny ! ” In her fury she tore into shreds a lace hand- 
kerchief, one of her late purchases in Paris, for which 
she had paid four hundred francs. 

11 You seem to forget that your father is ruined as well, 
and in his present state of health it is doubtful whether 
he can survive the shock. In any event he will not care 
to resume the burden of a fashionable, extravagant 
woman, especially one who has a husband,” sneered 
Potts. 

“ I am his child ; he planned this disgraceful marriage ! 
But for his worship of Mammon I would have wedded one 
who was more worthy of me, and now he will not dare to 
refuse me shelter, since my husband does.” 

She laughed aloud in derision, and kept on in her walk, 
making stagy gestures in her frantic emotion. 

“ I have not denied you shelter, nor is there any fear of 
my deserting you. I am too fond of your society. I 
shall bore you with my unflagging attention, and perhaps 
teach you that one can be happy even in moderate cir- 
cumstances.” 

“ Oh, this is an outrage ! Such humiliation ! Was 
ever woman so cruelly imposed upon ? ” 

“ Or man so adroitly deceived ? ” Potts said ironi- 
cally. 

There was a lull in the storm, when the door opened, 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


and the angry gaze of his mother-in-law confronted 
It was the finale to the scene. 

“ Mother, mother, my heart is broken ! ” cried Mil- 
dred, throwing herself into her mother’s arms with such 
abandonment that it nearly took Mrs. Elliott off her feet. 

“ My poor Mildred ! You know all about the disgrace- 
ful affair. Oh, what will the world say ? Our friends 
in Europe ? The Duchess of Marlowe, the Count de 
Vinery, the Duke of Vallombruse, and Baron von Helm- 
holtz ? Ah ! this is an affliction ; and so sudden too. 
Had I only completed my negotiations for that palazzo at 
Nice, we could have entertained our friends of the nobil- 
ity so royally there. Oh, it is shocking, and all through 
that husband of yours. To think you are married to him 
— a pauper ! Oh, how low we have fallen ! Were you 
but free, some of our titled friends might propose, 
and, by marrying you, lift us back into our proper atmos- 
phere. Alas, child, you have married in haste ” 

Potts, unable to listen further to the idle prattle of the 
shallow woman, who grieved more for the loss of her 
fashionable friends, than for the life of the man who lay 
in a critical condition, with no hand to soothe his troubled 
brow but that of the nurse, spoke up sternly : 

“ Madam ! ” 

Mrs. Elliott turned fiercely on her son-in-law. 

“ Well, sir, what have you to say ? Can you stand 
there calmly and look upon this child’s bitter grief without 
a pang of remorse ? Was it for this you took her from a 
mother’s loving arms, a father’s tender care ? Think, 
sir, she might have married an earl had you not crossed 
her path. What have you to say to this dire calamity ? ” 

“ That it is a blessing, for it has opened my eyes to the 
venality of the woman I married. ” 

“ How dare you add insult to injury ? ” cried Mrs. 
Elliott. “ How utterly unworthy you are of my peerless 
child ! Perhaps, sir, you will tell me what reparation 
you propose to offer ? ” 

“ None, madam,” replied Potts, with an expression 
which plainly told that he was equal to the occasion, 
though his opponent was a woman, and his mother-in- 
law at that. 

“What!” almost shrieked Mrs. Elliott. “This is 
monstrous ! ” Turning to her daughter, she wailed : 

9 


PYRRHA: 


‘ Why, oh, why did I consent to such a union ? Had 
I only obeyed the promptings of my heart and refused 
this man.” 

“ Oh, mother, you forget that you insisted on it. You 
and father are to blame for my wretchedness,” sobbed 
Mildred. 

“ Because there were millions in the balance, as you 
supposed, you hushed that warning voice and sacrificed 
your child, eh, madam ? ” 

“Frederick Potts, you are ill-bred, coarse, and mon- 
strous. I will not permit my child to remain in your 
presence and be subject to your brutality, for a nature 
like yours must become brutal. Come, child, do not 
weep so.” 

“Yes, mother, take me home, where no pitying eye 
can witness my shame ! Hide me from this man, for he 
means to subject me to the vulgarities of a boarding- 
house.” 

“ Infamous ! ” gasped Mrs. Elliott, as she led her 
daughter toward the door. 

“ Pardon me, madam, she cannot accompany you,” 
and Frederick Potts laid his hand firmly on his wife’s 
shoulder. 

“ You have not the audacity to separate a mother from 
her child ? ” 

“ She is no longer a child, but my wife, and she re- 
mains with me,” replied Potts decidedly. 

“ But I don’t want to stay, I want to go to my father,” 
cried Mildred, trying to shake off his hold. 

“You forget, sir, that by your deception you have 
forfeited all claims of a husband,” hotly retorted Mrs. 
Elliott. 

Potts laughed aloud — an aggravating laugh — and said : 

“ That we are beggared through Mr. Elliott’s misman- 
agement is no fault of mine ; but my conduct as a hus- 
band has been, and will be, unimpeachable.” 

Here he touched the bell, and told the servant who 
answered it to order Mrs. Elliott’s carriage at once. 

“ Ingrate ! impostor ! This is too much ! To be ruined 
by such a man, and then insulted and ordered out of the 
house, is beyond my endurance. Oh ! oh ! ” 

With this burst of indignation Mrs. Elliott left the 
house, entered her carriage, and drove away. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 131 

Frederick Potts took his wife’s arm, led her to a chair, 
and compelled her to listen to his plans. When Mil- 
dred found that she had been mastered, she gave in 
gracefully, and soon after a reconciliation took place. 
But there was a smouldering fire in her breast which 
threatened to blaze forth at any moment. 

Several days later Mildred met her mother, and to- 
gether they drove to Ravenwold, hoping to reestablish 
the old friendship with Pyrrha. Although they had dis- 
claimed their former friendship when the Powells were 
publicly disgraced by “Allan’s mad act,’’ now that they 
were literally deserted by the moths of fashion, who only 
flutter about the dazzling light of prosperity, they were 
anxious to become intimate with the woman whose wealth 
and beauty they so envied. 

They sent up their richly embossed visiting cards on 
the gold salver, and marvelled at the richness of the ser- 
vant’s livery. 

Pyrrha was astonished at their effrontery, and sent an 
excuse ; but, nothing daunted, Mildred wrote on her card 
the nature of their call, and added that an interview was 
most desirable. 

Pyrrha concluded to see her visitors, and when she 
reached the drawing-room she found mother and daughter 
inspecting the magnificence of the apartment with criti- 
cal envy. 

“ Oh, Pyrrha, dear ; how lovely you are looking ! ” 

But the young widow ignored Mildred’s officious 
remark, and repelled her advances with an icy look. 

“ Pardon me,” she said with marked frigidity. “ I 
understand that Mrs. Potts desires my assistance in some 
charitable affair.” 

“ Yes, Mrs. Griffith is correct.” The name made 
Pyrrha wince. “ We also came to make a formal call,” 
continued Mrs. Elliott. “ It was with heartfelt sympathy 
for you that we heard of your brother’s unfortunate rash- 
ness, and we would have come at once to tender our con- 
dolence in your terrible affliction, but, knowing your 
sensitive disposition, we concluded it would be a kind- 
ness not to intrude.” 

And, confident that her speech had hit the mark and 
made matters smooth again, Mrs. Elliott leaned back in 
her chair in a most complacent manner. 


1 3 2 


PYRRHA : 


“ You were very considerate, but I assure you, Mrs. 
Elliott, that I did not feel the need of comfort or sym- 
pathy, only from the few I call my friends . Pray, in 
what way can I assist you ? ” 

“ We — we are soliciting funds for the purpose of aid- 
ing the homeless of our town. The committee proposes 
to erect a suitable home for the unfortunates, and as you 
are now among the wealthiest of our land, we venture to 
ask you to start the subscription, and give generously 
toward the noble cause. We know you to be a lady of 
large charitable propensities, and ” 

“ I will subscribe five thousand dollars,” interrupted 
Pyrrha. “ I am at present using large amounts among the 
poor in the Hollows, ancl trust the little will be of some 
service.” 

“ Oh, certainly,” answered Mildred, as she shot a quick 
glance at her mother, which seemed to say : 

“ A paltry five thousand, .and she has millions.” 

Pyrrha signed her name on a blank leaf in Mildred’s 
little book, and wrote out an order making the money 
payable to the bearer. As she handed Mildred the paper 
and book, she said : 

“ As I am engaged, I beg that you will excuse me.” 

“ I am to understand that you decline to renew our 
fsiendly association of the past ? ” asked Mildred, grow- 
ing red with vexation. 

“ I prefer to forget that we have ever been more than 
acquaintances,” replied Pyrrha, as she moved majestically 
toward the door. 

“ As you please, Mrs. Griffith,” hastily put in Mrs. 
Elliott, who gave Mildred a warning look. 

“ One moment, pray,” called out Mrs. Potts, and there 
was a dangerous twinkle in her eyes as she continued : 

“When your brother returns to C , tell him I 

should be most delighted to have him call, and Mr. Potts 
joins me in the invitation ; he is most anxious to meet the 
exemplary young man who was so devoted to his wife.” 

And with a little laugh, that was not altogether pleasant 
to the ear, Mildred and her mother departed. 

“ How did she dare to visit me after all the unpar- 
donable wrong she did Allan ? ” exclaimed Pyrrha half 
aloud, her bosom swelling with suppressed emotion. 
“ But for her Allan would have kept pure of worldly cor- 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


T 33 


ruption, and to-day he would not be carrying the stain of 
blood upon his hands, or be a fugitive from justice, hiding 
under an assumed name, exiled, and a wanderer ; while 
I would have been Philip’s wife, and a stranger to the 
pangs which rob my days of rest and my nights of sleep. 
Ah, Allan, what a tree of sorrow has grown from the 
small root of your boyish passion ! ” 

She seated herself on an ottoman of gilt and pearl, and 
rested her head against an ebony stand which supported 
the marble figure of a veiled nun. She closed her eyes ; 
and, as memory took her back to her happy childhood 
days, an indescribable look of peace settled on the feat- 
ures, which were not unlike those of the statue, so per- 
fect was their chiseling. 

In the mean time Mildred and her mother were loud 
in their denunciation of the lovely, lonely woman who 
refused their sham friendship. 

“ I have never been so snubbed,” declared Mrs. Elliott, 
“ and by such a creature. Why, it’s only a few months 
ago that she was little better than a shop girl. Such 
upstarts ! It’s preposterous ! ” 

“True,” replied Mildred, “yet she succeeded. See 
what her marriage has done for her, and look at mine. 
She is a millionairess ; I a beggar ! She free ; I bound 
to a man who is in his dotage.” 

“ Well, my dear,” returned Mrs. Elliott consolingly, 
“ had your brother been possessed of the noble qualities 
which Allan Powell so dexterously exercised, you too 
might be a rich widow to-day. But I think you prefer a 
more natural mode of release. I am amazed that such 
an atrocious crime should escape the just punishment of 
the Code, and the deplorable condition of the law makes 
one fear for his own safety.” 

“ Never mind, mother, they will find him yet, and 
Justice will not sleep until she has done her duty. Yes- 
terday I saw Guy Paulding.” At the mention of his 
name her face grew a bright crimson, and her voice 
became softer as she recalled a pair of lustrous eyes. 
“ He confidently informed me that he was cognizant of 
his cousin’s whereabouts, and intended giving the police 
some valuable information. I think Guy feels very bit- 
terly toward the Powells, and is quite ashamed to own 
them as relatives.” 


J 34 


PYRRHA : 


“ Not to be wondered at,” said Mrs. Elliott, loftily, 
“ for he is such a noble fellow.” 

The conversation abruptly ended as the carriage drew 
up before Lawyer Drew’s office, and the ladies hastily 
alighted and presented Pyrrha’s order for the money. 

They endeavored to glean some information concern- 
ing Mrs. Griffith’s fortune and her private affairs, but the 
attorney was not communicative — scarcely was he civil in 
his answers. Much vexed they returned to their equi- 
page, and directed the coachman to take them to the 
treasurer of the Orphan’s Home Society. 

They deposited four thousand of the five which Pyrrha 
had donated, and, with the thanks of the committee still 
ringing in their ears, departed for their separate homes. 

“ One must have some recompense for the loss of time, 
and the price of a new bonnet is little enough for the 
trouble we had,” was Mrs. Elliott’s comment as she 
divided the remaining thousand with her daughter. 

***** 

Pyrrha sat for a long while deeply merged in thought ; 
finally she opened her eyes and murmured : 

“ Six months ! six long, weary months, and not a 
word — a look, and he said he loved me!” 

She was- thinking now of Philip Everemond, who had 
not been near her since Allan’s escape. She knew that 
he was not ill, for often she had passed his cottage in the 
early evening, and, unable to control the desire to see his 
face, had stolen up to the office window and looked in. 

She understood his silence ; he was grieved and angry 
that she had ignored his advice, and through her unlaw- 
ful act had caused the death of a faithful man. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Pyrrha, “ do I not deserve his . 
resentment ? Nay, more, his aversion ? Can I expect 
that a man of his noble, spotless character could stoop 
to mine, which is so steeped in disgraceful misery ? 
What pride could he find in calling me wife ? Could all 
the devotion of a lifetime repay the sacrifice ? And yet 
— and yet, were he in my position, how I should hasten 
to comfort him. But I must not blame him — a woman’s 
love is her life, while it is but a man’s pastime. Six 
months ! How have I endured it ? With all my other 
troubles too. The fear, the anxiety, the constant watch 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


*35 


of the detectives, the desolation. O Heaven ! he might 
have had pity on my wretchedness, and have come to 
me if but for an hour, given me one word of hope, one 
smile. I am starving for the sight of his face ! Philip, 
why do you not come to me ? ” 

For a few moments she paced the floor rapidly, with 
hands clasped tightly behind her head, as was her habit 
when agitated, then she opened her escritoire, and 
taking up the pearl-handled pen, began to write. She 
ceased suddenly, and said : 

“ No, I will not write. Where is my womanly pride ? 
I may only lower myself in his estimation, and yet, why 
should I hesitate ? Does he not know how completely I 
am his, that I am languishing for his presence ? Oh ! 
why does he not come ? ” 

She leaned her head on the velvet table of the desk, 
uncertain what to do. Love and pride struggled for 
victory. It was a brief battle, and the voice that came 
from the heart conquered. A moment more, and she 
dashed bff the following line : 

“ If you still retain one spark of the old affection, come at once 
to Pyrrha.” 

She enclosed it in an envelope, sealed it, and hastily 
summoning a servant, bade him mount a horse and with 
all possible despatch deliver the message. 

After two hours of painful suspense the man returned 
with the answer. Philip wrote briefly that he would come 
that very evening. 

“ Ah, there is joy enough in those dear wprds to repay 
for all my dreary days of waiting,” she exclaimed, with 
flushed cheeks and swimming eyes. He would come ! 
she would see him, hear his voice ! She laughed aloud 
in her joy. 

She was particular as to her toilet, and the maid won- 
dered at her anxiety as to her appearance. 

As*he hour drew near, Pyrrha listened to every sound 
with a beating heart. She walked from room to room 
in a restless manner. Would he never come ? She sat 
at the piano, sang a few snatches of some favorite air, 
took up a book, read a few pages, but knew not a word 
of what she was reading ; took up the frame of needle- 
work, but her thread tangled and she forgot the stitch. 


i3 6 


PYRRHA : 


It was all alike, she could do nothing but think of Philip, 
and that he was coming to her. 

The bell pealed loudly through the marble hall, and 
she sprang to her feet ready to receive him. She was 
all unconscious of her loveliness as, standing beneath the 
oriental lamp with its silver and rose-tinted shade, which 
threw over her face a mellow radiance, with outstretched 
arms and trembling lips she waited. 

The door opened, a figure entered ; but the arms fell 
listlessly to her side, the carnation bloom disappeared, 
and the pale lips gasped : 

“ Guy Paulding ! ” 

“Ah, you are looking charming, cousin,” said Paul- 
ding, extending his hand. “ Not pleased to see me, eh ? 
Perhaps you will feel more friendly when you have 
heard what I have to say.” 

“ Nothing you can say could interest me, Mr. Paul- 
ding.” 

“ Indeed ! ” he returned mockingly. “ Permit me to 
be the judge of that. Listen. While I was at the post- 
office, your servant came in, and called for the mail for 
‘ Ravenwold.’ Several letters were handed him, one of 
which slipped from his fingers and fluttered to my feet. 
I instantly recognized the handwriting — it was Aunt 
Helena’s. I picked it up, and at a glance saw it bore 
the London stamp, and I was careful to observe the dis- 
trict where it had been posted. I know full well that 
Allan is with his mother, that he is in London, and it will 
be an easy matter for the police to find him. As I believe 
in justice and not in bribery, I intend to give the clew.” 

“No, no, no ! Have pity on him, on me ! Oh, do not 
doom him to lifelong imprisonment, or death ! Think 
how young he is ! What have we ever done to merit 
your malignity ? Why are you so bent on injuring us ? ” 
pleaded the proud woman. 

“ Because — well, to be candid — because you scorned 
my love, and my hate knows no limit. I warn you that 
unless you give me some hope of winning your hand, I 
shall betray him.” 

“ Go ! I will hear no more.” 

“ Then you shall have the pleasure of seeing your 
brother back in the hands of Justice, who will not be 
hoodwinked again. Ah, that touches you, I see.” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


137 


“ As you please, Guy Paulding ; God is stronger than 
man, and I placed my brother in His keeping.” 

She pointed to the door, and with an insolent shrug 
of his shoulders he left her. Ere his footsteps had died 
away she heard the voice she loved so well ; another 
moment, and Philip stood before her. 

“ Philip, Philip, you are come at last ! Oh, why did 
you desert me so long? You have been cruel in your 
punishment. I know I did wrong, but I was desperate, 
I could not see him die ! Ah, I will not touch you if 
you deem me unworthy ; only let me look at your dear, 
sublime countenance, so I may gain courage and strength 
to bear my lonely lot.” 

Pyrrha spoke quietly, with the same old ring of pathos 
in her sweet voice. 

Philip held out his arms saying : 

“ Come to me, and forgive me. Though I have been 
silent, I have never ceased to love you.” 

“But you are ashamed of me, Philip.” 

“ No, Pyrrha. I was grieved that through your act a 
poor man lost his life, but it was not wholly on that 
account that I have remained away. I wanted you to 
be sure of your own heart. With your wealth and 
beauty you V 

“ Oh, Philip ! ” she interrupted, throwing her arms 
around his neck. “ If I do not love you, tell me the 
meaning of this strange emotion, which has been as a 
fire slowly consuming my heart. Why do my eyes weep 
for you, my ears ache for the music of your voice, my 
hands tremble for your touch, and my lips crave for the 
nectar of your kiss ? Speak, is not this love ? ” 

“Yes,” he replied, as he held her close in his strong 
arms. “ Yes, you love me now. But in a few years I 
shall be bent with age, and in your youthful loveliness 
will you not long ” 

“ Hush, Philip ! Can you have the shadow of a doubt ? 
Though we may be separated, though you may forget 
me, I shall love you for time and eternity. Your image 
has taken root in my heart that nothing can eradicate.” 

“ Then, Pyrrha, my darling, be mine, my own wife.” 

He seemed almost afraid that she might refuse him, 
and his anxiety was seen in his face. 

“ Your wife ! What a flood of ecstasy fills my soul ! 


i3 8 


PYRRHA : 


Oh, how I have prayed for this moment, for one short 
year of wedded bliss ! The divine rapture, to be all 
your own. Your wife ? Yes, thank God! my tortured 
heart is at rest. Hold me closer, Philip, for your breast 
is my shelter, my haven ! ” 

She abandoned herself to the passionate emotion which 
was one of the strongest elements in her nature. She 
kissed his face, his eyes, hair, and hands ; she grew radi- 
ant in her beauty, her scarlet lips spoke thrilling words 
of endearment, and the man who listened was speechless 
with joy ; he was intoxicated with happiness. He did 
not speak, but the sweetness of the lips he pressed again 
and again shot through his strong frame with exquisite 
acuteness, and his brain reeled as he seemed to draw her 
very soul through her dazzling eyes, “ as the sun draws 
the mist from the seas to the skies.” 

And thus, after his long waiting, Philip Everemond 
held in his arms the holiest thing that God ever gave to 
brighten man’s life, a woman’s intense love and devotion. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“ Sandy Creek ! ” exclaimed Martha. “ What in the 
world are you going to do there ? ” 

“ I am going to investigate, and see what can be done 
to restore sunshine and tranquillity among the people. 
You kno\^ Martha, that the little settlement is part of 
my estate — that the entire populace depend for a liveli- 
hood on the extensive silk mill, which my lawyer has 
just informed me is only running on half time. He says 
that the operatives have been unruly since Mr. Griffith’s 
demise, and that he can no longer influence them. So I 
will go at once. This is the only village that I have 
neglected,” said Pyrrha, sweetly. 

“ But, my dear child, those low, coarse people will 
insult, and may injure you. It is no place for a lady of 
your rank to venture into alone. Let Carl, or one of 
the servants, drive you over, if you must go to-day. 
But I am of the opinion that it will displease Philip.” 

“ Displease Philip ? ” echoed Pyrrha, laughing softly, — 
a pleasant, joyous little laugh, — as, standing before her 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


139 


mirror, she adjusted a large Gainesborough hat with long 
drooping plumes that mingled with the curls and formed 
a frame for the delicate face with the liquid eyes, which 
beamed with happiness now. “ No, Martha,” she con- 
tinued, “ whatever I do will not displease my husband. 
He would sanction this step and urge the mission. You 
know, lawyers ought not to undertake a case like this ; 
they are too callous, too unsympathetic in their deal- 
ings ; they forget that the poor down-trodden working 
class are human beings, with hearts that hunger for 
kind words as well as the more substantial goods of this 
world. I had occasion to reprove Mr. Drew for his 
harshness toward one of the mill hands not long since, 
and he replied that such was Mr. Griffith’s management, 
for he had declared kind words to be a loss of time and 
money, and not to be indulged in by his agents.” 

“What a despot that Griffith was. Those subject to 
his mercy were to be pitied, Pyrrha,” said Martha, 
adjusting her glasses. 

“ Yes, indeed. Why, I was horrified at the condition 
of these people whom he had termed his white slaves. 
They worked for years for a mere pittance, which left an 
enormous profit to their employer. They were obliged 
to live in the little shanties which had been erected on 
the land he owned, and for which the millionaire asked 
one-third of their earnings for rent.” 

“ Infamous ! ” exclaimed Martha. “ But why did these 
silly people work for him ? Truly they could have found 
employment with honest Christian folks.” 

“ Ah,” continued Pyrrha, “ that’s where the monster 
was clever. All these people are from foreign countries, 
whom Griffith’s agents secured on the moment of their 
arrival here, and agreed to furnish them with steady 
employment provided they would sign for so many 
years. And men who were penniless, with starving fam- 
ilies, only too gladly seized the opportunity. In this man- 
ner he settled the dozen little hamlets along the stream. 
His bank account swelled into millions, while his honest, 
hard-working victims had scarcely food enough to feed 
their overtaxed bodies. 

“ Martha, you cannot picture the misery of these slaves 
as I first saw it. Old men, with snowy locks and flowing 
beards, tiny sickly children more fit for the hospital, and 


140 


PYRRHA : 


pale, pinched-faced mothers, all were toiling in the various 
departments of the mills. And to peep into their homes ! 
Oh, the abject poverty that met my gaze made me faint 
and sick.” 

“ And what did you do, child ? ” Martha brushed 
away the tears which rolled over her wrinkled cheeks as 
she asked the question. 

“What did I do?” and Pyrrha’s voice rose in exulta- 
tion as the scene appeared before her vision. “ I called 
the superintendent, foreman, and every man, woman, 
and child together, so they should hear that I did not 
mean to rob them ; that I did not want to feast on what 
was justly theirs. I ordered their wages to be increased ; 
their houses to be given them rent free, and the day 
of labor to cease at the hour of five, and every family 
received a full supply of provisions, which I had ordered 
at C . That’s what 1 have done in the eleven settle- 

ments, and Sandy Creek shall fare the same way. I 
mean to restore justice to the injured, and raise the poor 
wretches he so long trod upon. I cannot recall the dead 
who were his victims, but I mean to do right to the living 
if it takes every dollar of the fortune he left me.” 

“You are a noble woman, Pyrrha,” and Martha kissed 
the beaming countenance. 

“Had you only been there,” continued the girl, “to 
have heard the shouts of gratitude. The very air seemed 
to ring with the voices which breathed of new life ; the 
tears of the women, the happy laughter of the children — 
ah, I shall never forget that scene. They followed my 
carriage, they kissed the hem of my gown, and fairly 
worshipped me. How light my heart was to see these 
people happy. I have ordered the construction of a 
chapel and school-house, where they might worship God 
and train the minds of their children. Oh, I hope they 
will all attend.” 

“ Indeed they will, Pyrrha, for you have touched the 
right chord in their natures, and by your kindness secured 
many from evil thoughts and bitterness. God bless you 
for your noble work. I was right when I told Mason 
that Philip had found an angel in his wife.” 

“Martha, you overrate my goodness. You know it is 
easy enough to give when one has plenty. No, I only 
did my duty. But tell me, Martha, is Philip really pleased 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! 141 

with me ? I love him so wholly that I am in constant 
fear lest I should not meet his entire expectations. Oh, 
Martha, I am over-anxious to please and make him happy. 
He is so sublime, so far above me, that I tremble at the 
comparison. Should he ever cease to love me, I believe 
— oh, I dare not think of the possibility.” 

She clasped her hands together, and her features 
resumed their former paleness, while a vague fear crept 
into the eyes and vanquished the joyous sparkle of hap- 
piness. 

“No fear of it, my dear, for you are his very life. I 
never believed a man could so adore a woman. Why, I 
begin to think that Mason does not understand the mean- 
ing of love.” 

“ And why ? ” asked Pyrrha, with a radiant smile. 

“ Because he does not watch me with eyes like Philip’s ; 
he does not listen for the rustle of my dress, or the sound 
of my voice, as my cousin does for yours ; and then, 
there isn’t the rapture in Mason’s glance, or the unutter- 
able ring of pride in his tones when he speaks of me, as 
when Philip speaks of his wife.” 

“ My husband ! ” murmured Pyrrha, with a lingering 
tenderness as she pronounced the word “ husband.” 
“ God help me to prove worthy of such devotion as his.” 

Martha saw her lips move, and knew that she was 
praying. 

“ You are very happy, child, and let an old woman 
advise you to do nothing that would violate his faith in 
you or destroy the love that is akin to idolatry. You 
are young, and by far the loveliest woman I have ever 
met. When he takes you abroad you will be admired, 
and many will seek to court you. But do not let worldly 
adulation spoil the sweet charm of your womanhood and 
purity. Devote yourself to your husband, and make the 
evening of his life one unbroken dream of felicity, for 
his morning was clouded and spent in bitter loneliness.” 

“ Thank you ! Oh, thank you ! ” responded Pyrrha, 
fervently. “ I will never, never waver. Nothing could 
draw me from his holy love. What are other men to me ? 
What care I for their flattery, the world’s approbation ? 
I want only Philip’s smile, Philip’s tender love and praise. 
Ah, Martha, I have dreamed of this, and it is almost too 
perfect to continue in this world of sin and sorrow. 


142 


PYRRHA : 


•Were it not for Allan’s exile — for that cloud darkens 
my placid skies — my cup of earthly joys would be filled 
to overflowing.” 

A tear glistened on the long lashes, then splashed 
upon the flowers at her throat, resting like a dewdrop 
among the delicate petals. 

The servant announced that the carriage was in readi- 
ness, and Pyrrha kissed Martha good-bye. 

“ I feel nervous about your going, Pyrrha ; leave it till 
to-morrow, and let Philip accompany you,” said Martha, 
detaining her. 

“ And leave those poor creatures another day in their 
misery ? No, Martha. Besides, Philip may be unable 
to leave the bedside of that unfortunate blacksmith. I 
think I shall stop there on my return and see if I can be 
of any service. Won’t that be a surprise to my husband ? 
You can expect us home in time for dinner.” 

“ You should insist on Philip giving up his practice. It 
is absurd for him to work ; a man of his fortune should 
stay at home and amuse his wife,” said Martha. 

“ I have spoken on the subject, but he assures me it is 
his duty to look after the sick poor, and I know that he 
is right, and I love him for his generous characteristics. 
Good-bye.” 

Pyrrha ran down the stairs like a light-hearted child, 
sprang into the low basket- phaeton, took up the reins, 
spoke to the white ponies, nodded with a pleasant smile 
to Carl, and drove rapidly in the direction of the lonely 
country known as the “ Hollows.” 

When Pyrrha married Dr. Everemond, less than two 
weeks before she left Ravenwold, and took up her abode 
in the doctor’s beautiful home, which was all sunshine 
and tranquillity. They were to leave C for a pro- 

tracted tour through Europe as soon as Philip could 
arrange matters satisfactorily, the principal hindrance 
being the indisposition of the physician’s, assistant, and 
he was loath to leave his patients in strangers’ hands. 
Pyrrha intended going direct to England, and, if advis- 
able, to take her mother and Allan along to Italy, where 
she hoped they might spend the winter together. Anx- 
ious as she was to see her exiled brother, she was reluc- 
tant to leave the nest wherein she had spent such hours 
of sweet bliss. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


43 


Theirs was a rare devotion, an unusual love, the 
complete surrender of two noble, intense natures, and 
their close association was a beautiful thing to contem- 
plate. 

Now as Pyrrha sat in her carriage she talked to “ Deu- 
calion ” and “ Pyrrha,” the magnificent horses so chris- 
tened by her husband when he gave them to her. Her 
pulse beat rapidly as she recalled Philip’s smile, the thrill 
of his passionate kisses, and she laughed aloud in her 
happy emotion, bestowing on Philip the fondest names 
that one could utter. 

In childish prattle she told the horses of her felicity ; 
she spoke to the birds that twittered above her head ; to 
the beautiful glow of the October sun, and to the soft 
breeze which fanned her pretty cheeks. 

“ I have waited for this,” she continued ; “ I have suf- 
fered as few can suffer; but I trusted God, and He has 
answered my prayer ; and so happiness will come to all 
who have the patience to wait, the faith to believe.” 

She now entered the village, and her thoughts were 
directed to the scene before her. 

Children were crying about the dirty little houses ; 
women were quarrelling with each other ; while here and 
there were men grouped together, discussing in loud, 
angry voices, accompanied by excited gesticulation ; and 
an alarming number of the ragged individuals were the 
victims of alcoholism. 

What did all this mean ? Pyrrha noticed that her 
appearance caused surprise, strange mutterings, and dark 
looks, while some of the men shouted : 

“ Who is she ? ” 

Pyrrha drove on toward the factory, which loomed up 
like some giant monster, with its tall chimneys and pointed 
roof, against the sunny blue sky. The crowd followed ; 
while women joined in the throng, some carrying their 
children, others dragging them along. In front of one 
of the thatched cottages were a dozen or more of illy 
clad girls, not much older than ten years. Their sweet 
faces bore the stamp of hunger, though they seemed 
unconscious of their misery, for they were making merry, 
singing and dancing the Hungarian gypsy dance. They 
had twined golden-rod and blueberries around their 
heads, and were swinging in the air wreaths made of wild 


144 


PYRRHA : 


grasses and autumn leaves. It was a pretty, touching 
sight, and Pyrrha’s heart ached for the little innocent 
creatures. 

She drew from her pocket a handful of silver and 
threw it among the frightened herd, then another, and 
another. 

The girls looked in blank amazement. Who was this 
Lady Bountiful who scattered her silver and looked like a 
queen in a fairy tale ? 

The first shock over, the children made a simultaneous 
dash for the money, which lay in dazzling patches among 
the short grass ; but the boisterous crowd, which followed 
in the wake of the carriage, sprang forward, like a lot of 
savage beasts, thrusting aside the frail little ones and 
securing the coins. It was a fierce struggle, and the 
men cursed each other, while the girls took refuge in the 
house, evidently thoroughly frightened. 

Pyrrha was astonished. She called to the men, but 
they would not heed. Realizing that the people were in 
a mutinous condition, she urged her horses on, hoping 
to solve the mystery at the mill. Her surprise was 
increased on finding the factory at a standstill. 

The windows were closed, the doors barred, and an air 
of desertion enveloped the large building. 

This explained to Pyrrha the excited crowd, the savage 
rush for the money. 

At the south-east corner of the factory were several 
respectable looking men, who hastily came forward and 
raised their hats as Pyrrha addressed them. 

“Where can I find the foreman of this mill ? ” 

“ I am the man,” said the smaller of the two, removing 
his pipe and advancing toward the carriage. 

They were both Germans, and spoke English badly. 

“Then you can tell me why work has been suspended.” 
Pyrrha was obliged to speak loudly, in order to be heard 
above the din of voices which filled the air. The crowd 
had increased to a large number, and Pyrrha was fright- 
ened, for she observed that the foreman regarded the 
mob — which clustered about her carriage and stared with 
insolent curiosity into her face — with an apprehensive 
countenance. 

“ Lady,” began the German — and the crowd listened 
eagerly to every word and with threatening mien — “ the 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


T 45 


hands are all on a strike. They shut down work a day 
ago, and I can do nothing with them.” 

“ Then why did you not inform Mr. Drew ? Why was 
he not told of this ? ” demanded Pyrrha. 

“ I did, lady ; I sent a letter to the gentleman telling 
him the condition of things, but he has sent no answer,” 
replied the foreman. 

The mob muttered fiercely and shook their clenched 
fists. 

“ What is the cause of the disturbance ? ” asked Pyrrha, 
endeavoring to speak calmly while the men watched her 
strangely. 

“ They will not work for the six shillings a day,” 
responded the foreman. “ They want more wages, and 
they are right, lady,” he added, as if to side with the 
strikers. 

“ Yes, we are right, and we mean to have it,” shouted a 
tall, muscular man, whose features were weather-beaten, 
hard, and set, and whose eyes gleamed savagely. 

“ Aye ! aye ! ” responded the throng in a chorus. 

“We have worked long enough for a crust, and now 

that the d d rascal is dead we mean to make that 

woman who got all his money pay. If I could see her, 
I’d ” 

Pyrrha stood up in her carriage, looking like some 
sculptured queen, and interrupted the leader of the mob : 

“ I am that woman ! ” 

They all staggered back excepting the man whom she 
addressed ; he came ploser to her and fairly yelled as he 
spoke. 

“Ye are, hey ! then by all the devils ye shall know 
who I am. Me name is Dan Wilson, and I be father to 
the gal they’ve got in prison. Do ye hear? You, with 
your cursed fine looks, stole the man from my gal ! He 
should have married her, aye, and would, had ye kept 
out of his sight, and the poor gal would’ve bin a fine 
lady, living in style down at the castle, and we poor 
wretches would have more than bread to eat ; for Olga 
meant to make us all rich, didn’t she, comrades ? ” turn- 
ing to the crowd, who became more clamorous in their 
excitement and were in full sympathy with their leader. 

“ Let me speak,” gasped Pyrrha, scarcely understand- 
ing what the man was saying, 
io 


146 


TYRRHA : 


“ Yes, let the lady speak,” put in the trembling Ger- 
man, trying to pacify the infuriated Wilson. 

“ No ! ” shouted the man. “ I am the one to speak, and 
she must hear. What do we care if she be the richest 
woman alive ? She ain’t got no right to it. Has she ? ” 

“ No ! no ! ” chimed in the many voices. 

“ It all belongs to my gal, Olga ; wasn’t she to be Ivan 
Griffith’s wife, and wasn’t he the father of her babe ? ” 

“ Aye ! aye ! ” answered the mob lustily, pressing more 
closely about the carriage, hemming in the horses, which 
became restless at the noise. They nodded their heads 
approvingly at the leader, who continued : 

“ Didn’t my gal go on her knees and beg him to marry 
her straight off ? and like a coward he sneaked away, say- 
ing he had a better one ; and when my gal knew her babe 
was to have no father, she killed it, aye, and would have 
killed herself, too, hadn’t I stopped her in time. Maybe 
they are going to hang her for it, while you roll about in 
fine carriages that ought to be hers ; you drive horses 
that’s fit for a king ; you drink the wine, which is our 
blood ” 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” broke in Pyrrha. 

“You eat the meat that we slave for,” he continued 
not heeding her interruption ; “ you take the bread out o’ 
our mouths and feed it to your dogs. You have laughed 
to think what fools we be ! And ye are the better one, 
aye. She’s a thief ! Down with her, the impostor ! ” 

“ My God ! ” exclaimed Pyrrha, sinking down on the 
seat. With an effort she grasped the reins and tried to 
urge the horses on, but their bridles were seized by 
strong, unrelenting hands, and leering faces with gleam- 
ing eyes were looking up at her as they clung on to the 
wheels of the phaeton. 

“ She is a woman. You brute, let her go ! ” shouted 
the foreman, and his friend joined him. 

“ The Dutchmen are agin us. Down with them ! ” 
cried Wilson! 

“ Peace, and hear ! ” said Pyrrha. 

“ Peace, and hear ! ” echoed a few. 

“ No ! ” thundered the leader. 

“ It is for our good to hear her speak,” again spoke the 
foreman. 

“ Yer talk ain’t wanted.” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


147 


“ But 1 mean to say a word. I ” 

The Germans were struck by the leader, and the 
foreman felled to the ground before he could finish his 
speech. 

“ There, you Dutchmen, we’ve settled ye ! ” and the 
crowd laughed wildly at Wilson’s successful treatment. 

“ What shall I do ? ” thought Pyrrha. Seeing that it 
meant death to falter, she rose again, summoning all her 
strength and courage to speak. 

“ Men and women ! ” she began. 

“ No ! no ! ” interrupted Wilson brutally. “ It’s ladies 
and gintlemen ye are addressing. Ye think ’cause we 
ain’t rigged up as fine as ye that we ain’t got no right to 
the name, eh ? If we robbed the poor devils as ye have 
done, and wore such finery as ye’ve got on, yer’d call us 
by our kerrect names, I reckon ” 

“ Listen to me ! ” broke in Pyrrha, her voice faltering, 
and a keen pain creeping about her heart. “ I have come 
in a good cause. I do not want to cheat and rob you ; 
you all shall have bread, all shall ” 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” laughed the stalwart leader, and 
instantly the air was filled with coarse, derisive laughter. 

“ We want more than bread ! ” continued Wilson 
fiercely. “ We want your money, your jewelry, your 
finery, and them horses. We ain’t afraid of a woman ! 
Pull her out, boys ! Tear them diamons from her ears ! 
Show the rich what we can do ! ” A number of horny 
hands and dirty arms, with their red shirt-sleeves rolled 
up to their shoulders, instantly stretched out to seize 
her. 

Some of the rough women tried to intercede, but they 
were either knocked over the head by their infuriated 
husbands or trod upon. 

“•Strip her of her finery and throw her in the stream ! ” 

Pyrrha uttered a long, piercing scream of terror as she 
felt the fierce clutch of the many hands, and fell to the 
bottom of her carriage insensible. They did not drag 
her out, for a figure — a strange, awful figure — sprang out 
from the thicket which grew along the mill stream, and, 
in a voice which seemed to come from the grave, cried 
out : 

“ Hold ! Who harms that woman shall die ! ” 

The men fell back, and gazed with eyes that stared 


4 8 


PYRRHA .* 


wildly from their sockets at the tall, gaunt, spectre-like 
form. The women shrieked, “ A ghost ! Sam Trimmer’s 
ghost ! ” and fled in terror from the scene. 

It was a startling picture. The motionless mob, silent 
with terror, with awe written on every feature, while the 
intruder stood brandishing a large, stout, knotted stick 
above his head. His hair was long and white, his cheeks 
cavernous, his eyes restless and fiery, while a gleam of 
madness flashed from their depths. His form was but 
partly clad, the neck, breast, and arms being bare, while 
twisted straw and grasses were knotted about his waist 
and legs, which held the tattered rags together. Again 
he spoke, and his voice, which now had a ring of passion, 
broke the spell. 

“ Let the woman go, I command ! ” 

“ And who are you? ” Wilson managed to ask, while he 
was quaking in every limb with terror. 

“ I am Cephas. I grew from a stone.” 

“ You are a lunatic,” returned the leader, growing 
bolder as he saw that the man was human. 

“ Say, fellows,” spoke up one of the men. “ That’s 
the very spot where Trimmer was drowned, and I swear 
that’s his ghost. I’m off ! ” So saying, the speaker took 
to his heels, followed by many who were superstitious. 
Wilson, seeing that he was being deserted, regained his 
courage and shouted : 

“ Stay ! Comrades, ye ain’t going to give up and go 
back to starve ? Now is our time ! The horses are 
worth enough to take us from the place. Out with her, 
quick ! ” 

And Wilson sprang forward to assist, but the hoary 
figure had seized him, and down came the knotted stick 
with a force that sent the leader reeling backward. An- 
other blow, and Wilson lay bleeding on the groiind. 
The others who interfered fared the same way, then the 
strange apparition leaped into the carriage, seized the 
reins, lashed the horses, which dashed off on a mad gal- 
lop, trampling upon those who sought to hold on to their 
bridles. 

It was all done in less time than it takes to tell it, and 
the strikers stood aghast, watching the flying vehicle as it 
sped away amid a cloud of dust. They could dimly see 
the tall, unnatural figure still standing on the seat, looking 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


149 


grim and unearthly as he urged the frightened horses on, 
and kept brandishing his stick. 

On, on they went, over hills and through meadows in 
their furious flight, at last entering a strip of woods. 
Here their speed slackened, and finally the animals stood 
still, trembling in every limb. Then the man looked 
toward the woman, who was now partly sitting up. Her 
eyes, expressing horror, hope, and fear, were fastened 
upon his face. He, too, started, and with a joyful cry 
exclaimed, “ Pyrrha ! ” 

“ Who — who are you ? Has the grave given up its 
dead ? ” 

“ No, but the madhouse has released its victim. I am 
Robert Powell, your father ! ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“ Not dead ! incarcerated in a madhouse ! Do I 
hear aright ? My father — yet no, this cannot be true. 
Years ago he died of some malignant fever, and was 
buried in New Mexico. He was as handsome as a god, 
while you — oh, you are horrible ! horrible ! ” 

Then, as if the danger of the situation had just dawned 
upon her, she grew frantic with terror, and made desper- 
ate efforts to get away ; but he detained her with a firm 
hold, and she raised her voice, and shouted : 

“ Help ! Help me ! Philip ! Philip ! ” 

Her strength became exhausted ; only the echo of her 
own voice came back to her ; she resigned herself to her 
fate, and lay limp and white in the bare arms that held 
her close against the ragged breast. 

“ My child, my Pyrrha, my little girl, do you not know 
me ? Though I am changed, sadly changed, I am your 
father — your wretched father ! Oh, I know that I look 
more like the beast of the field ; but listen to me, and 
you will not marvel that I have almost lost the shape of 
a human being. For years I have lived in darkness, 
within the walls of a lunatic asylum.” He felt her 
shudder, but she no longer struggled. “ There were 
moments,” he continued, “ when I caught a glimpse of 
reason, and knew the full horror of my surroundings. 


PYRRHA : 


l 5° 

which were worse than those of a charnel-house. I was 
starved, bruised, and beaten by the keeper until I could 
not move ; and when I escaped, I became a hopeless 
wanderer, without home, friends, or intellect. I was 
driven to steal, to beg, in order to feed my miserable 
body ; and now, since I* have been hunted down by jus- 
tice, I have lived among the swamps, the woods, where I 
fed on herbs ; and when I lay low with the fever, I had 
no cover but that of the sky ; no pillow for my aching 
head but that of the long damp grass and the hard red 
mother earth. I saw not the face of a human creature 
for weeks and weeks. I fled at the sound of a footstep. 
I grew frantic at the bark of a dog. Only the birds that 
sing, the frogs that croak, and the insects that creep, 
have been my companions. Do you still wonder that I 
am horrible to the sight ; that I am unlike the Robert 
Powell of old, who kissed you good-bye one wintry 
day, years ago, which to me has been an eternity of 
time ? ” 

“And you have suffered all this?” The girl was now 
looking up into the wasted face, whose expression of long 
suffering beggared description. She touched his arm in 
an awed manner, as if to ascertain whether it was indeed 
flesh and blood, or was she cradled in the arms of an 
apparition ? No ; she had seen those very same eyes 
years ago. Ah, how well she remembered with what 
love and pride they had shone upon her. 

The long hair, nearly as white as the fallen snow, still 
retained the peculiar, curly wave as it clustered about the 
full brow ; and the hand, aye, that was the same, she 
could not mistake it for any other. The perfect sym- 
metry ; the singular pearly skin — despite its exposure to 
sun and air — was the one that she had so often caressed 
and admired. No, he was not mad, and she was not 
dreaming ; for this poor, forlorn wreck of a man was 
indeed her father — her father back among the living. 

Pyrrha clasped her arms around her father’s neck, and 
hot tears fell thick and fast on his tattered blouse. 

“ And it is thus you come back to us ! Oh, my poor, 
unhappy father ! What have you ever done to be so 
afflicted ? You, who would not harm a worm, to have 
endured such terrible tortures. I would have searched 
the whole world over, had I but known that you were 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


151 

among the living. We mourned you as dead, wept for 
you, and thought of the lonely grave wherein you were 
sleeping peacefully, while in truth you were a demented 
wanderer, penniless and ill-treated. Why were we not 
told of this ? Who could have been so inhuman as to 
deceive us ? ” 

“Ivan Griffith.” His lips were livid, and his teeth 
were set as he uttered the name. 

“ Father ! ” gasped Pyrrha. 

“Yes. Listen to me and I will tell you briefly. He 
dogged my footsteps to New Mexico, and without my 
knowledge he bought the mine from Arnold. I never 
thought to ask the purchaser’s name when I received my 
share of the money. I thought of nothing but that I 
should return to my loved ones. Ah, how full of hope 
and happiness was my heart as I bade Arnold farewell, he 
to go to his aged mother in France ; I to return to my 
home and family. But, alas ! when alone in the dark, 
wending my way to the railroad station — when far from 
the reach of human help, I was seized, thrown to the 
ground, the fall breaking my arm. My assailant robbed 
me in silence, then he spoke, and I recognized the voice 
of our enemy. I struggled, but I was as a feather in the 
monster’s grasp. He laughed at my feeble strength, and 
told me how he had watched my many failures — how he 
had been the direct instrument of all my ruin. And, not 
yet satisfied, he vowed to take my life, so he might in 
some manner force you to become his mistress. You, 
Pyrrha, you, my spotless pearl, to be the victim of that 
iniquitous wretch ! This gave me strength ; I arose, 
threw off his grip ; but the next instant he struck me a 
blow — a blow that left me life, but made me a raving 
maniac ! Dead to the world, to hope, to love and God, 
aye, even to my own identity.” 

“ Great Heaven ! This is horrible ! Horrible ! ” 

The tone of her voice, the expression of her face, told 
more of her emotions than the words. The blue veins 
on her white forehead stood out like whipcords, her eyes 
dilated, her chin quivered, and a flood of hate for the 
murdered man filled her breast. She felt, for a moment, 
as if she could drag his festering body from the grave, 
as if she could pluck out the diabolical heart and feed it 
to ravening jackals, and she would have laughed with 


J 5 2 


PYRRHA : 


joy — aye, with a delirium of joy — to have witnessed his 
suffering. 

Her father coughed and shivered, like one seized with 
a chill. It recalled the girl to herself, and she tenderly 
wrapped around his bare shoulders the rich lap-robe. She 
moved like one in a dream, but the eyes which glittered 
like polished blue steel beneath some fitful light bespoke 
the excitement of her mind. 

“ For the last five days, daughter,” resumed Powell, 
“ I have walked without resting, only when exhaustion 
overpowered the strength of my will. I know that my 
days are numbered, and I have come to tell you all.” 

“ Father, you shall not die ! You must live — live to 
forget what you have endured. I will nurse you — oh ! 
so tenderly, back to health and strength. You are cold. 
Why do we tarry here ? and my horses — what has hap- 
pened them ? ” 

For the first time she seemed conscious of their sur- 
roundings, and he answered her glance : 

“You remember the mob ? The animals took fright, 
and ” 

“The mob?” she interrupted. “Oh, yes, yes! I 
remember the horrible savage creatures ! they meant to 
injure me ; they were desperate. But surely you — you 
were not one of them ? ” she asked breathlessly. 

“ No. It happened that at early dawn I reached the 
mill, and my limbs refused to carry me farther. I crept 
into the thicket, and there, screened from view, fell into a 
dreamless sleep, from which I was awakened by confused 
sounds — shouts, jeers, laughter ; and then I heard a 
woman’s voice — a voice that came from out the past. I 
peered through the matted vines and leafy boughs, 
when, lo ! a cry greeted my ears, a cry such as only 
despair, frenzy, and terror can utter. Only once before 
have I heard such a cry.” 

Pyrrha shuddered as she recalled the group of vin- 
dictive faces, the gleaming eyes, the many eager, out- 
stretched arms, the hoots and curses. 

“ How did you save me from them, father ? ” 

“ I rushed forward, and with this club dispersed the 
savage dogs. My appearance frightened many away. 
I got into the carriage, whipped up the horses, and thus 
we got beyond their reach. Daughter, I was none too 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


!S3 


soon. Another moment, and they would have killed 
you.” 

“ Yes, I was in great peril ; for those poor wronged 
creatures, believing that I had robbed them, and 
stolen the rights of that poor girl now languishing 
in jail, filled their hearts with bitter resentment. I must 
not blame them, they have been so long oppressed, so 
long trampled upon by our enemy. Ah, father, you are 
amazed ! You do not know of the cruel things I have 
heard ; the entire track which he traversed lies one black 
reign of devastation, strewed with the charred hopes and 
dead bodies of his victims. Thank God ! his reign is 
over, and his violent death was but a just retribution, 
though the murderer was ” 

“ You know who killed him, then ? You know who had 
the courage to deal the blow that ended the monster’s 
life ? His name ! speak ! ” cried Robert Powell vehe- 
mently, as he seized her wrist. His breath came in hard, 
quick gasps ; his eyes burned into hers, and she fancied 
that she saw the gleam of madness in them. 

Pyrrha did not have the courage to refuse him, for she 
thought to disobey his command was to feel that iron 
hand about her white throat, and she answered slowly : 

“ My — my brother, Allan Powell, your son ! ” 

“ Allan ? Allan ? ” he echoed. “ Oh ! you are mad, 
my child. Who dare say that he committed that foul 
deed ? My boy — my boy a criminal ! It is a lie ! It 
was — Swear that you will not betray the secret, and I 
will tell you,” he hoarsely whispered to the frightened 
woman. 

“ But, if Allan is innocent, he should not suffer for the 
guilty. Why do you — Ah ! ” she continued, with a 
gasping sound, “ I have a terrible suspicion ! ” 

“ Swear, I say ! swear, by all you love and hold sacred, 
never to disclose my secret until I die.” His face was 
bent close to hers, and, believing him mad indeed, she 
said : 

“ I — I swear ! ” 

He released her wrist, and after a moment spoke : 

“Allan is innocent.” 

“ And you ? ” she asked. 

“ Killed Ivan Griffith.” 

She did not scream or faint ; she only looked at him 


54 


PYRRHA : 


in speechless terror, while her arms hung listlessly at her 
side, and a sudden moisture settled on the delicate face, 
which was of the hue of death. 

“ That is what I have come to tell you, Pyrrha,” con- 
tinued Powell. “ I did not know that the crime was fast- 
ened upon my boy, or I might have given myself up to 
justice. I thought they were searching for me ; I 
imagined every one knew that I had done a murder. But 
Allan can prove his innocence, can he not ? ” 

“ No. There seemed no possible hope of that, and I 
planned his escape before the trial. He is now hiding, 
with mother, in England. ” 

“ Then he is safe, and I need not die in jail. Oh, 
Pyrrha, save me, save me ! You swore to keep my secret,” 
he went on wildly ; “ you will not let them find me. Oh! 
do not cast me adrift the little while I have to live.” 

“ Cast you adrift,” repeated the woman sadly. “ You, 
my poor injured father; you, whom we so loved and 
cherished ! No, have no fear of that. But, tell me, what 
restored your reason ? how came you to murder him ? ” 

“ I fell from a building. The shock must have counter- 
acted the blow which Griffith dealt me, for from that 
moment I have been perfectly sane. With the first gleam 
of reason I saw a line of carriages. In one of them sat 
my enemy, and they told me that he had just been mar- 
ried to Pyrrha Powell. Pyrrha Powell was my child ! I 
cannot tell you what murderous passions filled my heart. 
He had at last succeeded, but I vowed to cut him down 
in the hour of his triumph. I knew he would go to 
Ravenwold, and, as I had no money to ride, I took the 
highway. I hid about the castle until the music had 
ceased and the lights disappeared, then I climbed the 
terrace and looked in at the window. I heard a feeble 
cry ! I saw you struggle in his grasp ! I seized a knife 
which lay close to the window, and, as he was about to 

destroy you, I sprang in and ” 

“ You killed him ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” broke in Pyrrha, 
laughing hysterically as she recalled the scene ; laughed 
until the woods took up the sound and sent forth a 
thousand echoes, and unconsciously beat her breast with 
tightly clinched hands. 

“ Yes,” responded Powell ; “ I killed him, then fled to 
the swamps. But why did you marry him, Pyrrha ? ” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


r 55 


“ Not for love, ha ! ha ! Not for his wealth, whose gold 
was gained at the cost of human blood. Ah, no ! But 
to cancel a debt, a dishonest debt which Allan had con- 
tracted.” 

“ A debt ? ” he repeated. 

“ Yes, more, a felony, for he robbed the bank.” 

“ Robbed the bank ! Why — are you sure ? Strange, 
for I too am guilty of that offence.” 

“ You ! ” 

“ Ay,” he returned. “ In some manner I met Ivan 
Griffith ; even in my madness I knew him, and followed 
him. He entered a bank. ‘Ah,’ thought 1, ‘this is where 
he has stored my money.’ My poor brain thought of but 
one thing, my stolen gold. All day I planned, and in the 
dead of the night I crept along in the shadows back to 
the marble building, and with some tools I carried cut the 
plate-glass window. I forced open the safe, seized a 
package of bank-notes, and fled. I entered a saloon and 
counted the money in my hat as I sat in a corner. Just 
ten thousand dollars ! I was wild with joy. Now I should 
go and seek my wife, my children. There was a noise 
at the end of the room, a quarrel at one of the tables. A 
struggle followed ; I heard fierce oaths, the breaking of 
glass, a pistol-shot, and the police entered. How well I 
remember it all ! One of the officers said that he wanted 
the man who had stolen the money. Terror instantly 
seized me. Had they discovered the robbery ? Would 
they arrest me and lock me behind iron-barred windows ? 
Should I lose my freedom ? Again feel the blows, the 
chains, such as I had felt at the mad-house ? No ! I 
would destroy the money, throw it away, and hide my- 
self from the watchful poiice. I left the saloon I know 
not how. I ran a few yards, but stopped as I saw a man 
sitting on a stone step. I spoke to him ; he did not 
answer. I touched him ; he did not move. Some demon 
possessed me; I slipped the money into the man’s pocket, 
and fled ! I laughed aloud at what I had done ; it was 
the laugh of a madman.” 

“ Fatality ! fatality,” she wailed. “ You fastened the 
crime upon your son, for the sleeping man was no other 
than Allan Powell.” 

With a hollow groan the unhappy man threw up his 
wasted arms and fell back half unconscious. 


56 


PYRRHA : 


“Truly the sins of the parents shall be visited upon 
the heads of their children,” said Pyrrha, half aloud. “ Oh, 
brother, my innocent brother, how falsely you have been 
accused ! how unjustly you have suffered ! — Father ! 
father ! ” she called, shaking him roughly. “ Come, we 
will go home ; already the sun is sinking, and we are lost 
in a wood. Father ! ” But he did not heed, and the girl 
was in despair. 

The sudden shock of the dead returning to life, the shift- 
ing of the mantle of guilt to other shoulders, — shoulders 
which were bent with the burden of sorrow ; shoulders 
that were as dear to her as those of her innocent brother ; 
the plunge from extreme happiness into the darkest 
woe, — was sufficient to paralyze the stoutest heart, the 
strongest nerves. 

Pyrrha did not cry ; her eyes were tearless. She did 
not moan, but, taking up the reins, she said : 

“ Come, ‘ Deucalion,’ take me home ; take me to Philip ; 
take me from this death-like place. The swaying branches 
are but ghostly arms stretching out to bear me away into 
a world of darkness, away from Philip and the light of 
his love.” 

What a sight it was ! The sombre woods, the slowly 
moving white horses, the low phaeton with the ragged, 
unkempt figure of the man, whose wan face and partly 
closed eyes contrasted weirdly with those of the woman ! 
The rustling of the dead and fading leaves as the car- 
riage wheels rattled through them, and the occasional 
screech of an owl, completed the picture and added to its 
uncannyness. 

The road grew uncertain, the wood and copse thicker, 
the gloom deeper, and Pyrrha vaguely wondered if they 
were drifting into Dante’s Inferno. 

But this morbid thought was soon dispelled as the 
undergrowth became thinner and the road wider, and 
finally the wood opened out into a large corn-field. 

Pyrrha recognized the landscape. To the right lay 
Ravenwold, while beyond were the mountains and the 
familiar hills. 

As she led the horses into the road, Powell sat up, and 
after a moment asked : 

“ Where are we going ? ” 

“ Home, father.” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


*57 


“ Home ? ” he repeated ; “ I have no home. I am an out- 
cast, a fugitive, a murderer ! I am dead to all but you, 
Pyrrha. Once we had a home, a happy home, did we 
not?” 

“Yes, father. But I am going to take you now to my 
home. I am married to Philip— Philip Everemond — you 
remember him, do you not ? ” 

“ Yes, but he must not see me. No one must see me. 
Did you not swear to keep my secret ? ” he asked sharply. 

“ Oh ! but not from Philip, father ; do not ask me to 
keep a secret from my husband ? Do not ask me to 
deceive him? He is so tender, so generous in his pity. 
Let me take you to him, tell him all.” 

“ No ! ” 

Pyrrha was surprised at the sternness of his voice, the 
scowl that darkened his face. 

“ If you cannot pity me, if you cannot be true to your 
oath, let me go away, back to the swamp to die.” 

“ No, no ! I could not part with you ! Do not believe 
me so cruel ! What shall I do ? Let me think.” She 
pressed her hands to her throbbing temples. After a 
moment she said : 

“ Let me take you to the castle ; you will there be 
comfortable, and the housekeeper can wait upon you ” 

“ Not there, Pyrrha. I should ever see his form — the 
dagger, the red blood, and hear that cry. No, no ! Let 
me go back to the Geer. I can find rest within those 
hallowed walls. I can forget the shadow of my crime, 
and lose the sting of pain, in the memory of the halcyon 
days when we were so happy there. The well-remem- 
bered echo of your laugh, and the love-words of my 
Helena, shall soothe me into that everlasting sleep whose 
drowsiness is on me now.” 

“ Cease, cease, father ; speak not of death ! ” 

“ How we have suffered,” he went on ; “ and through 
the bitter enmity of a man we never injured. Ah, I am 
glad I slew him ! Glad that I ” 

Pyrrha laid her hand over his mouth warningly. “ Be 
calm, be calm ! Some one may hear you ; we are close 
to the old home.” 

It was growing rapidly dark, and it was with difficulty 
that Pyrrha kept the horses in the road. 

“ Go to the east room, father ; that is partly furnished. 


PYRRHA : 


T 5 8 

You can enter through a window, or by the old hall. I 
will send a servant — one whom I can trust — with food and 
clothes. He shall stay with you during the night, and 
keep me informed of your condition. I shall come on 
every opportunity. Be of good cheer, and pray God to 
comfort you and purify your soul ! ” 

Robert Powell remonstrated, and vehemently declared 
that he would see no one but Pyrrha. He would not 
trust her servant, or any one else who he knew would 
betray him and drag him to prison. 

Pyrrha was obliged to give in to his opposition for the 
time, though she saw no other way than to enlist Carl or 
John in the matter. 

The carriage stopped. Powell got out, and moved 
toward the Geer entrance ; then came back, and, leaning 
toward Pyrrha, spoke in a low voice : 

“You will not forsake me for him ? Remember how I 
have loved you ; think of my suffering, and pity me. 
Be faithful to your promise ; it is not for long.” 

She put her arm around his neck and kissed the pallid 
brow. 

“ I promise you ; for I love you more dearly to-day in 
your misery than when we were so happy together. ” 

A moment more and he had disappeared into the 
darkness. 

What strange sound was that which reached Pyrrha’s 
ears as she kissed her father ? Was it fancy, or, indeed, 
a half-smothered groan ? 

For a long while she heard in a vague way — heard 
without comprehending — the clatter, clatter, of flying 
hoofs behind her, but her mind was so deeply merged 
in her father’s revelation that the sound failed to attract 
her attention. 

“ O God ! where was your mercy when you let that 
unlawful man strike down the good ? Where was your 
justice when you let that calumniator rob an honest man ; 
when you sent him ruin, affliction, in its most hideous 
form ? ” 

Her heart swelled with fierce rebellion against the God 
in whom she had so trusted. 

She had reached the gateway to her home ere the silent 
rider who had followed her from the Geer came close to 
her carriage, and said : 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


59 


“ Pyrrha.” 

“Philip ! ” she cried with delighted surprise. “Oh, I 
am so glad to see you ! Why, you are riding * Satan.’ 
Where have you been ?” 

“ Looking for you.” 

He did not glance at her, and his face was stern and 
troubled. 

They reached the house ; he quickly dismounted, threw 
the reins to a servant, and silently led his wife into the 
hall, raised the portilre curtains, and they stood alone in 
the drawing-room. 

“I have been in great peril, Philip,” began Pyrrha, 
speaking nervously, as he tenderly removed her richly- 
garnished wrap. “ I will tell you all about it, but you 
must promise that no arrests shall be made.” 

“ Well, dear, I must know something of the matter 
before I can give such a promise.” 

He did not look at her as he answered, and finally he 
moved toward the mantel. 

“Philip — husband ! you have not kissed me.” He saw 
her chin quiver, and tears started to her eyes ; but she 
recalled them, stung by his coolness, as he replied : 

“ Forgive me ; ” and, bending down, he lightly touched 
her cheek. 

After a moment, she told him the condition of affairs 
at the mill, of the attack, and the runaway as being the 
medium of her escape. She avoided details, for fear of 
betraying her rescuer. When she ceased speaking, she 
leaned back in the cushioned chair and closed her 
eyes. 

“ Have you told me all ? ” asked Philip. 

A moment’s hesitation — then she answered : 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you are keeping nothing from me, Pyrrha ? ” 

He was watching her closely. 

She started, looked away, and seemed uncertain what 
to say ; but setting her lips firmly, while crushing her 
handkerchief in her hand, she nerved herself to utter the 
lie : 

“ Nothing ! ” 

He was petrified. “ Is it possible ? ” he thought. 

“You will not prosecute the poor creatures,” she went 
on hurriedly. “ Will you, Philip ? They are so poor. 


i6o 


PYRRHA : 


They were driven to violence ; indeed, they are crazed 
with suffering. We must send Mr. Drew down early in 
the morning. Something must be done immediately, or, 
who knows what crime they may commit ?” 

“ I am of the opinion that Wilson, the leader of the 
mob, is a dangerous person, and should be placed under 
arrest,” replied Philip, in a half -abstracted manner. 

“ No, that would be unjust. Think of that man’s 
misery. Remember, it is his daughter whom Ivan Griffith 
wronged under promise of marriage. She was ambitious 
and confiding. Alas ! she did not know the heartlessness 
of the man. But we must try to save her from death. 
Use all his money among the poor, for I do not want to 
touch it.” 

Philip had not heard a word ; he was thinking of what 
he saw at the Geer. Suddenly he stooped before his 
wife, and looked into her eyes. He fancied that they 
were restless and sought to avoid his. 

“ Pyrrha” — his voice was very tender as he went on — 
“ you do love me, do you not ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, yes ! You are the blossom of my soul, the 
flower of my life. I could not exist without you, Philip, 
my husband.” 

“ Then you will not deceive me ? You will keep no 
secrets from me ? Will you, darling ? ” 

Her hand dropped from his shoulder, and she looked 
distressed. 

“Pyrrha,” he continued, “was there in the past any 
one whom you loved better than you do me ? ” 

She shook her head. “ No.” 

“ I will forgive any indiscretion, any mistake you may 
have made, for your past was your own ; but now you 
are my wife, and I will not tolerate a mystery, or ” 

“ Good Heaven ! Philip ! ” she interrupted. 

“ Tell me” — and his voice grew more appealing — “tell 
me, who was the man you met to-night ? ” 

Should she tell him all, and ask his advice and assist- 
ance ? But she remembered his former aversion to aid 
in anything derogatory to his sense of honor, and she 
answered : 

“I — I cannot tell you.” 

She broke down with a sob. 

“We will say no more about it to-night, dear ; you are 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! l6l 

nervous and frightened. To-morrow you will tell me 
all, I am sure.— Here, Martha,” as Mrs. Peake entered, 
“ Pyrrha is not well ; she has received a bad shock, and 
needs rest and quiet.” 

“Just as I expected,” exclaimed Martha, clasping her 
hands. “ I knew something terrible would happen to 
her ; I felt it in my bones. — Didn’t I, Mason ? ” turning to 
her husband, who had hastily followed her to the draw- 
ing-room. 

“ Yes, you did, love ; I can testify to that.” 

“ Those ponies ! ” continued Martha. “ Philip, didn’t 
I tell you they were too capricious for a lady to drive ? 
— My dear, are you hurt much ? ” asked she tenderly, 
bending down to caress Pyrrha. 

“ Martha, it is nothing serious ; the horses ran away, but 
Pyrrha sustained no injuries ; she is only badly fright- 
ened,” put in Philip. 

“ I give Martha credit for being endowed with second- 
sight. She declared you had met with an accident, and 
nearly drove us crazy with her presentiments. She 
dispatched Philip after you the moment he got home, 
and Carl with a lantern, brandy, and linen, while I was 
just preparing to go out myself,” said Mason. 

“ Well, you see, my dear, I was dreadfully nervous ; I 
imagined such frightful things.” 

“ I am so sorry that I worried you, Martha, and I 
regret that I went at all,” said Pyrrha, rising. 

“ Are you strong enough to dress for dinner ? ” 

“ No, excuse me to-night— I want to go to my room — 
I want to rest — I want to die.” 

And she threw herself on Philip’s breast with an hysteri- 
cal sob. 

“ Sakes alive ! the child is ill, cousin.” 

“ No, Martha, she is only nervous. Lie down, dear, and 
try to sleep.” Again Philip kissed the pale cheek as he 
had done before. 

“ I will make you a hot julep, child,” whispered the 
old lady, as she led the distracted woman to her room. 
“ It will make you sleep, and quiet your nerves. Oh, I 
am so thankful you escaped without a bruise ! Here, 
dear, sit down by the fire and put your feet to the fen- 
der. You’ve got an old-fashioned chill. My ! how you 
do shake ! I would call Philip, only I have more faith in 


162 


PYRRHA : 


home-made juleps. Mason says it knocks pills and pow- 
ders all hollow. And Mason ought to know. Where is 
your maid ? Gossiping with the cook or butler, I sus- 
pect ; she is at it most of the time. I will send her up 
immediately, and while you warm your feet I’ll get the 
drink ready.” 

“ Yes, yes, yes,” said Pyrrha fretfully, and Martha 
went. 

As soon as her maid entered she dispatched her for 
John, the gardener ; then entered her husband’s dressing- 
room and selected a suit of clothes which he had dis- 
carded ; and, this done, hurried back and found Fay in 
the corridor. 

Briefly she gave him instructions to go at once to the 
Geer, how to enter, and what to say should Powell refuse 
to admit him. 

“ Remember, you are to mention this to no one. Can I 
trust you ?” she asked. 

“ Yes, my lady ; I would go through fire and water for 
you,” replied the man respectfully. 

“Very well, I will see you in the morning. Be careful 
to take the wine and as much food as you can carry. 
Do all to make him comfortable, and I shall recompense 
you liberally.” 

Pyrrha returned to her boudoir and found Martha 
waiting, holding a glass of steaming beverage. 

“ Why, where have you been ? I expected to find you 
in bed. Your drink is almost cold now. I’ll set it here 
by the fire till you are ready to take it.” And she pro- 
ceeded to do so, while Nanine began to disrobe her mis- 
tress. 

“ There,” said Pyrrha. “ I need you no further to- 
night ; you can go.” 

“Thank you, my lady,” and Nanine left the room, 
wondering at “ my lady’s ” strange manner. 

Pyrrha had slipped on a robe de chambre of creamy 
white silk. She did not fasten the blue girdle or the 
broad collar. It stood open, exposing the slender throat 
which rose from the lovely shoulders with the exquisite 
grace of a lily stalk. 

Throwing herself into a chair, she hid her face in her 
hands ; and a moan, which made Martha think of the 
sighing wintry winds, escaped her lips. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 1 63 

“ Pyrrha, child, what is the matter ? Have you dis- 
pleased Philip ? ” 

“ Yes. I am afraid so.” 

“ Dear ! oh dear ! that’s just what I was afraid of. You 
know, I said that he was likely to be.” 

“ Martha ! ” Pyrrha spoke almost sharply in her inten- 
sity. “You believe in me, do you not? believe that I 
love my husband with my whole soul ; that I am loyal to 
that love, — do you not ? ” 

“ Believe it ? Why, I would stake my honor — my life — 
upon your loyalty ! ” returned Martha warmly. 

“ If I should be parted irom Philip, and others believe 
me unworthy, you will not waver in your faith ? You 
will not steel your heart against me ? Oh, promise me, 
promise me ! ” 

“ Child, you are losing your senses. Anything part 
you and Philip ? Why, I ’d sooner expect to see the Alle- 
ghanies dance a hornpipe. Come, now, lie down and 
rest your tired, pretty head.” 

“ Promise me, Martha, promise,” persisted Pyrrha. 

“ I do promise, though this is all some foolish fancy. 
There, drink this julep, and I’ll stay with you till you are 
asleep.” As she tucked the lace coverlid about the 
graceful form, Pyrrha whispered : 

“ Pray for me, Martha. My heart is wicked and 
rebellious to-night. Pray that I may never lose Philip’s 
love, or my faith in Christ.” After a moment, she said : 

“ Sing to me — something to soothe me to rest.” 

Martha instantly complied, and sang softly, “ Jesus, 
Lover of My Soul.” 

“ ‘ Till the storm of — life — is passed,’ ” murmured the 
girl faintly, as her eyelids drooped, and soon she slept 
— the heavy sleep of mental and physical exhaustion. 

It was after midnight when Philip went to his wife’s 
room, and he stood for some moments watching the 
sleeper. 

“ Is it possible that she can deceive me ? ” he mused. 
“ Was it really the return of some old lover for whom she 
still cares ? Who else could it have been ? Ah ! I had 
forgotten Allan. It may have been him. Why, yes. 
His voice sounded familiar. Why did I not think of him 
before ? How could I believe her anything but good 
and noble ? ” He kissed the swanlike throat, and the 


164 


PYRRHA *. 


polished breast — which was partly exposed — the slim 
hands, and sheeny tresses. She turned, sighed, and 
murmured in her sleep : 

“ I love you still, but I am married, and ” 

Her words became incoherent, and Philip’s eyes filled 
with tears — tears which are the white pearls of the soul. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Immediately after breakfast the next morning, Pyrrha 
hurried to the greenhouse with a light basket and the 
flower-shears, ostensibly to cut a bouquet, but in reality 
to see John and hear of her father’s condition. She had 
been praying that it might be all a feverish dream, and 
that the gardener would look amazed when she should 
question him. But no ; it was all true. Fay raised his 
cap, and answered her look of anxiety : 

“ He is very sick, my lady, and I think the doctor 
should go to him at once. He wouldn’t eat a thing, nor 
did he sleep ; he did nothing but cough and moan all 
night, like one in great pain.” 

“You did not mention this to Dr. Everemond ? ” asked 
Pyrrha, her voice unsteady. 

“ No, my lady, I promised not to. But, had I known 
who the man was, I would not have made that promise. 
I feel like a thief in the doctor’s house.” 

“ I do not understand,” said Pyrrha, icily, though she 
wondered at her servant’s troubled expression. 

“ I would like to tell you something, but don’t know 
that I ought.” 

“ Speak, if it concerns the man at the Geer.” 

“ It do, ma’am. It is this — I know that man.” 

The basket fell at her feet. 

“ You know him ? ” 

“Yes, my lady. He used to be my partner. May be 
you don’t know what sort of a fellow I was before the 
doctor took me in ?” She shook her head. “Well, I — 
though it makes me ashamed to look you in the face, I’ll 
tell you — I was a housebreaker.” 

“ Oh ! ” ejaculated Pyrrha, as she thought to herself : 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 165 

“ And such a man I have trusted. Such a person knows 
that I have a secret from my husband. What am I to 
expect now ? ” 

“ It must shock you, I know, for it is a dishonest trade, 
and unsafe, too. Every time I broke a pane, I kinder 
expected to find death waiting on the inside. I didn’t 
like the business, but no one would give me work after I 
had been up the river. I told Dr. Everemond my story. 
He believed there was some good even in a convict ; and 
because he has given me a chance to become honest 
again, I ” 

“ But this man — this man. What do you know of 
him ? ” interrupted his mistress excitedly, seizing his 
sleeve in her eagerness. 

“ I know, my lady, that he was insane, that we used to 
call him ‘ Clifford,’ and that he was my pard in the busi- 
ness.” 

“ Impossible ! ” 

“ It is the honest truth, ma’am. I am sorry to say it. 
I found the poor fellow lying before the cellar door in 
Fink’s Alley. He looked sick and starved, and I took 
him to my attic. Bad as I was, I never kicked a whipped 
cur. He seemed glad to get under shelter, and for a long 
time he lived with me. He was as crazy as a bedbug on 
some things, but it was easy to learn him my business. 
He was a good one at it, too ; there was hardly a lock 
that he couldn’t open. One day he went away, carrying 
with him all the tools ; and when he didn’t come back, I 
thought, maybe, he got into some fix, or was dead. I was 
just took off my feet when I saw him at the Geer last 
night. He’s powerfully changed, but he’s my pal, old 
crazy ‘Clifford.’ ” 

“Hush ! ” She put up her hand for silence, and the 
gardener was struck at the whiteness of her face. 

“What else must I hear? what else endure?” she 
asked herself. 

“ I beg your pardon, my lady,” returned Fay, abashed. 
Pyrrha made a gesture for him to proceed, and he con- 
tinued : 

“ When the doctor took me here I told him all about 
this fellow ; he was anxious to find him, and made me 
promise if I ever heard of him to tell it at once. And I 
said I would.” 


1 66 


PYRRHA : 


“ You must not breathe a word of it to Dr. Evere- 
mond,” said his mistress with strong emphasis. 

He did not answer, and Pyrrha went on : 

“ You may be entirely mistaken in the person. What 
proof have you that he is the same ? ” 

“ That he kinder remembers me, and I recognize the 
eyes, though then they were blind to reason. I know the 
voice, the figure, and, most of all, the hand. I used to 
look at his hand and say : ‘ He’s been a gentleman of 
the first round ’ ; and his manners and talk, my lady, all 
went to prove it.” 

“ Why did you not try to find his friends ? Do you 
ever expect mercy from the God you have insulted, 
whose commandment you have outraged ? Thus in his 
dementia he has been a tool for the wicked. — Oh ! ” she 
continued to herself, “ this is hard, hard, to hear of you, 
my father. You, whom I looked upon as faultless, as in- 
comparable. — John,” again addressing the man, who 
turned to examine some drooping plant, “ I will not ask 
you to continue your visit to the man at the Geer, but I 
must ask you to keep his whereabouts a secret for a few 
days. I am sorry you cannot keep your promise to Dr. 
Everemond. Have my horse saddled and waiting this 
evening. I do not wish the other servants to know of it. 
Hush ! some one is coming.” 

Pyrrha hastily began cutting choice roses, sweet peas, 
and gold and crimson chrysanthemums, while John re- 
sumed his work of removing the little troublesome insects 
which infested a day lily. 

“ Mrs. Everemond ! ” shouted Nettie, bounding into 
the greenhouse, quite breathless with exhaustion, as she 
pulled vigorously at a white-silk scarf which was fastened 
to the collar of a large Newfoundland dog. “ See what 
the doctor has sent me for my birthday ! He just came 
by express. Oh ! isn’t he too lovely ? All shining black, 
with this little white spot between his eyes ! See, it’s 
shaped like a star. Oh ! Iam dead in love with him al- 
ready,” and she gave the huge brute a great hug, which 
seemed to ingratiate her in his favor, for he blinked his 
eyes and rubbed his head against her caressingly. 

“ He is a superb animal,” said Pyrrha, looking with 
admiration at the creature. “ What fine, intelligent eyes 
he has ! ” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


167 


“ How good he is ! I mean Dr. Everemond,” giving 
Pyrrha a significant glance. “No wonder everybody 
loves him. Won’t Frances Howson be jealous when she 
finds that my dog is handsomer than hers? I always 
wanted a great pet like hers, and I told Martha so. Now 
he must have a name, and you will christen him, won’t 
you ?” with an appealing glance at Pyrrha. 

“ I cannot think of one, Nettie. It is for you or the 
donor to name him,” replied Pyrrha. 

“ Oh, but I want you ; please do ! It would please the 
doctor if you did, for he loves you so much!' 

A pink flush crept over the woman’s face as she took 
up the basket filled with fragrant flowers, and, putting her 
other arm around the child’s shoulders, they left the 
greenhouse together. 

“ Come along, doggie. We are going to baptize you, 
and then you will become matulized,” said Nettie, stop- 
ping at the door to coax the Newfoundland along. 

“You mean naturalized, do you not ?” 

“ I don’t know, Mrs. Everemond, which is the one I 
mean. We haven’t got to that yet in school. But I heard 
John say that, after he found a name for the kitten. — Oh, 
Martha ! ” she continued quickly, as Mrs. Peake appeared 
coming from the sitting-room into the hall ; “ won’t you 
help us find a name for this lovely creature — he’s a present 
from the doctor ?” 

“ A name, indeed ! ” exclaimed Martha, retreating with 
undisguised displeasure as she saw the dog. “ Put him out 
this instant. Dogs are my pet aversion. I can’t bear 
the sight of one. What could have possessed Philip to 
give you that great ugly beast ? Send him to the stable 
to be chained.” 

“ He isn’t ugly, Martha. He is decidedly handsomer 
than Frances Howson’s, and he won’t hurt you either. 
Just pat him on this white star, and he’ll make friends 
with you at once. See how he loves me.” She ran her 
fingers with keen delight through the dog’s coat of hair, 
which was remarkably long and curly. 

“ He is, indeed, a magnificent specimen,” remarked 
Pyrrha, as they entered her suite of rooms, which con- 
sisted of parlor, library, and studio. 

“ Sakes alive ! what can you find in a dog ? Look at 
the brute’s effrontery ! ” Martha was thoroughly amazed 


i68 


PYRRHA : 


to see the dog settle himself on a Turkish lounge which 
stood near the window, quite unconscious of the war 
which his presence instigated. 

Nettie laughed and called him cunning, while Pyrrha 
looked amused. 

“ Really, you won’t permit this sort of thing ? The 
house will be overrun with fleas, and then you know I 
have a chronic horror of hydrophobia. Why, it’s abomi- 
nable ! ” went on Mrs. Peake, in an exasperated manner. 

“ Do not let it vex you, Martha,” said Pyrrha gently. 
“ There is no danger of the malady you so dread at 
present, and as to the troublesome insects he can be 
entirely cleansed of them.” While speaking, she pro- 
ceeded to arrange her flowers in oval-shaped bowls which 
a marble Flora held in her outstretched hands. 

“ But I cannot tolerate a dog in the house,” continued 
the old lady. “ It isn’t their place. Of course, you can 
do as you please about it, Pyrrha, but I should think 
such an unsightly monster would jar on your fine taste.” 
She left the room as she concluded. 

“ Must I send him out to the stable, Mrs. Evere- 
mond?” asked Nettie, laying her hand on Pyrrha’s arm. 
“ You know it would just spoil his beautiful coat to keep 
him chained.” 

“ We must try to compromise matters, since Mrs. 
Peake has such a keen antipathy to such pets,” said 
Pyrrha. “ We must keep him out of her sight as much 
as possible. While you are at school he can remain in 
my studio, and Carl can build a kennel for him close to 
the hothouse, where you can keep him during the night. 
You can take him for a run as often as you please, and 
feed him on mutton chops, or chicken broth, whichever 
suits his lordship’s palate.” 

“ Oh, that’s delightful ! ” cried Nettie, flinging herself 
beside the dog. “ Do you hear that, my fine fellow ? 
Oh ! but the name, Mrs. Everemond, he must have a 
name, and we are forgetting all about it. ‘Fellow’ 
sounds so vulgar.” 

Pyrrha did not answer immediately, for she had drawn 
aside the rich magenta curtains, and was looking upon 
the life-size portrait of her husband. Many were the 
hours the young wife spent in gazing on that placid face, 
which smiled back at her from the framed canvas. She 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


169 


had it painted during her brief sojourn at Ravenwold. 
The likeness was perfect, even to the kindly smile in the 
blue eyes. 

Pyrrha sighed, and Nettie continued : 

“ I don’t want to call him Jack, Nero, or Hero. He 
must have something above the common. He is so dig- 
nified that it must be an odd name that will suit him. 
Something with a history.” 

“ Well, what do you say to — to Dombey ? ” 

“Oh, that isn’t pretty in the least,” returned the child. 
“ Dombey wasn’t a king or prince, was he ? ” 

“No,” answered Pyrrha abstractedly. 

“Do you know?” and she spoke confidentially, “I 
would call him ‘ Philip,’ because you love that name 
better than any other ; only, supposing you have a baby 
boy some day, you would want to call him Philip, and it 
wouldn’t be nice to have the baby’s namesake a dog, 
even if he is ever so handsome, would it, Mrs. Evere- 
mond ? ” 

“ I — I am afraid not,” stammered Pyrrha, with a wave 
of color. “ Since you want something out of the general 
run of dog’s names, supposing you call him ‘ Perseus.’ 
He was one of the myths of the sun, and was most brave 
and daring. He had the courage to behead the Gorgon 
Medusa, whose glance had power to turn every one into 
stone ; then he rescued Andromeda — who afterward 
became his wife — from a great sea monster, which was 
about to devour her. These noble deeds made Perseus 
a great hero. Let us hope that the canine Perseus will 
do justice to his name, and stand ever ready to defend 
and protect you from danger.” 

“ Oh, he will ; I know he will ! How well the name 
suits him ! Perseus ! How grand it sounds ! You noble 
fellow, you shall have it on your collar, and everybody 
must call you Perseus, so you will get used to it yourself. 
— Ah, we have found a name for him, Martha,” as Mrs. 
Peake re-entered the room. “ It is Perseus ; please don’t 
forget it when you call him. I am awfully sorry you 
don’t like my pet, and I will keep him away from you as 
much as I can. Come here, Perseus ! Lie down, sir ! 
lie down ! ” 

She stamped her foot, and with an imperative gesture 
— which restored Martha’s good humor — pointed to a rug, 


PYRRHA : 


170 

as the dog started forward and began sniffing at Mrs. 
Peake’s dress. 

He obeyed promptly, and Nettie turned with an air of 
satisfaction. 

“ See how he minds.” 

“ I am glad he knows his mistress, for I want nothing 
to do with him,” said Martha. 

“ Oh, you are not angry with me, are you ? ” 

“ No, child ; ” and she took the orphan in her arms, 
kissing her affectionately. “ Nor have we forgotten the 
event. Mrs. Everemond has invited a number of your 
schoolmates to come and dance the evening away. I saw 
that the invitations were delivered several days ago, and 
I think all your favorites are included.” 

“A party ! ” cried Nettie gleefully, clapping her hands 
in delight. “ A party ! Oh, how lovely ! I have never 
had a real party, though I used to make believe, when I 
had my rag baby, and I invited the old gray cat, that 
died long ago because it got nothing to eat. We are 
going to have a supper, aren’t we ? and ices, and fancy 
pop things like the Howsons had ? Did you invite 
Mabel De Graff, and Carrie Phelps, — she’s such a pretty 
girl, — and Mattie Earle ? Oh, how nice ! And you didn’t 
forget Frankie Robertson, and his cousin, did you ? or 
that little lame boy who carried my lunch-basket ? His 
name is Henry — Henry ” 

“You mean Henry Burgh? No, I did not forget the 
bright little fellow, and I hope you will all enjoy your- 
selves this evening. Now run along and see if John can 
spare flowers enough to decorate the drawing-room, and 
keep Perseus out of my way, if you love me, child.” 

“ Oh, thank you, Martha ! Thank you, Mrs. Evere- 
mond, for thinking of me at all. A real party 1 Oh, I 
am so happy ! Come, Perseus, you shall wear a blue 
ribbon with a bunch of flowers around your neck to- 
night, and you must sit on a high stool and bow to all, 
just as your namesake did, or we will become Gorgons 
and turn you into stone. Oh, won’t we have fun ! ” She 
laughed joyously, seized the dog by the ear, and ran 
from the room with him. 

“ Childhood ! Oh, happy, happy childhood ! ” sighed 
Pyrrha. 

“Tell me what is troubling you, Pyrrha ; confide in 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


171 

me. I have noticed your restless manner and Philip’s 
coolness. What have you done to change him ? It 
must be something awful, for he would forgive any 
trifling indiscretion,” and Martha rested her palm on 
the girl’s bright head as she spoke. 

“ I cannot tell you now, my lips are sealed. Trust me 
for a little while.” 

“ Ay, and for all time. But if you are in trouble go 
to your husband like a brave woman and ask his help, 
for he loves you better than anything else on earth, and 
he will comfort you. There, I hear Philip’s voice in the 
hall. Cheer up. Men like to see happy, laughing faces ; 
not tears and lines of pain.” 

Dr. Everemond entered, and Pyrrha forced a smile, 
but it was like a sunbeam in a shower. 

“ I must be looking after matters for this evening,” 
said Martha, going toward the door. “ Have you en- 
gaged the music, cousin ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied the physician, “ everything will be in 
order for the occasion. — Well, Pyrrha,” turning to his 
wife, “ have you seen the dog ? ” 

“Yes, he is a fine fellow, and Nettie is delighted with 
him.” She went to the piano, thinking how unlike the 
Philip of old her husband was. He was tender, anxious, 
almost loving. But that indescribable something — the 
essence of perfect happiness — was gone. She ran her 
fingers over the keys and played at random, while Philip 
stood near the mantel. His eyes wandered over the 
apartment, then back to the figure of his wife. 

It was an artistic scene. The woman’s exquisite taste, 
with wealth at her command, had enabled her to fit up 
his home in a most charming manner. The harmonizing 
colors, the quaint, elaborate furniture, the odd and 
curious bric-a-brac, the numerous objects of art, 
etagtres of plate glass, tables of onyx, etching cases, 
delicately painted porcelain, and various articles of great 
beauty and rare workmanship were tastefully arranged 
about the spacious room. But the singularly fascinating 
woman was the chief attraction, and Philip thought that 
he had never seen her looking half so lovely. She was 
attired in some soft material that was neither silk nor 
satin, whose soft clinging folds, worked in silver, swept 
from the shoulder, and whose wide, open sleeves fell 


172 


PYRRHA : 


back from the dimpled arms, exposing the sheeny 
lining, which lent a chill glow, like the cold gleam of a 
wintry moonbeam, to the delicate white flesh. He also 
observed that her features had lost their oval round- 
ness, and that her eyes were restless and heavy from 
weeping. 

“ Probably anxiety for her lover,” thought the man 
bitterly ; but he instantly reproached himself for the 
unworthy reflection. He tried to control his suspicion, 
but he, generous and unselfish as he was, like most people 
in love, was a slave to the green-eyed monster commonly 
called jealousy. He could not banish from his mind that 
parting scene in the dark, the love-word, the kiss. There 
were moments when he was almost wild with frenzy. 
His intense emotions grew out of his wonderful love, and 
his natural aversion to mysteries and underhanded meth- 
ods made the discovery more appalling. 

Pyrrha played a few notes of “ Once Again” and her 
voice faltered as she sang the impassioned strain. Her 
husband came close to her, and, laying his hand caress- 
ingly on her shoulder, said : 

“ My darling, let mutual confidence once again exist. 
I love you too well to endure this grim shadow which 
has come between us. Come, dear, tell me what dis- 
tresses you ? What is that man, with whom you parted 
at the Geer, to my wife ? ” 

“ Philip, have pity ! Do not ask me ! ” 

“ Answer me frankly, was it Allan ? ” 

“ No. He is still in England.” 

“ Will you tell me whether you love — this man ? ” 

“ Yes,” she answered slowly. 

“ God pity me ! ” he moaned. 

“ But not as I love you. Oh, Philip, Philip ! believe 
me ! ” she said frantically, interpreting his suspicion. “ I 

love him tenderly, but not ” 

“ Say no more, I — I know — I understand. You pity 
the man whose heart you have broken, whose life you 
have ruined. Perhaps he is ill, and you fear to confide 
in me until he has passed beyond the reach of a husband’s 
vengeance. But do not let that thought add to your 
miserable situation. I will not betray my suffering to the 
world ; no one shall know the failure of my second mar- 
riage; my choice ” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


173 


“ Philip ! ” she broke in, trembling like an aspen. 

“ I do not want to be harsh, I do not want to forget 
my duty as a husband, but I cannot see my wife expos- 
ing herself to unfavorable criticism by meeting a stranger 
in the dark. Nay, more, I am not strong enough to sub- 
mit to the situation. I am but human, a man with all his 
faults, and I ask you to choose between us.” 

“ Choose between you ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And if I cannot forsake him, what then ? ” 

“ I will leave you,” he said quietly. 

“ Leave me ? Philip, you are doing me a great wrong, 
and you will reproach yourself when too late. Give me 
but a day or two — perhaps I can tell you all. Ah ! how 
can you distrust my faithful heart ? ” She flung herself 
before him, and clung to him appealingly. 

“You have betrayed my confidence and deceived me.” 
He gently but firmly unclasped her fingers, which clung 
so tenaciously to his, and, unmindful of her frantic gest- 
ures, went out and closed the door. 

H< sfc * si* 

It was a brilliant group of merry laughing children 
that assembled in the drawing-room, and Nettie, radiant 
in white muslin garnished with blue ribbons, stood with 
Perseus beneath a floral arch to receive them. 

Martha was obliged to preside as hostess, as Mrs. 
Everemond pleaded indisposition, and refused to leave 
her room. 

Philip, however, was present, and, though he laughed 
and jested with the little ones, his heart was very sore, 
and he could not banish the sight of a hopeless set face, 
and a pair of eyes which had gleamed from their fringed 
caskets with a haunting despair. 

Martha stole several times to the wife’s boudoir to 
inquire if she was better, or if she wanted anything. 
Pyrrha would only shake her head ; but, while her lips 
were mute, the cry of her heart was : 

“ Yes, I want my husband ! ” 


174 


PYRRHA : 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The clock struck the hour of midnight, and the early 
October moon was fast declining toward the west, while 
the lime and elm trees made long slanting shadows on 
the ground. A chill wind sprang up, dispersing the 
fleecy white clouds, that, like a gossamer veil, began to 
overspread the densely blue starlit sky, and scattered the 
whirling, withered leaves against the window-pane with 
a melancholy moan, as Pyrrha closed the door and stole 
out into the lonely night. 

For a moment she stood irresolute, and looked yearn- 
ingly back at the brilliantly lighted windows of the draw- 
ing-room from whence came the sweet strains of “ Home, 
Sweet Home,” and the merry joyous sounds of children’s 
voices, while in a poplar-tree near by perched a night- 
bird, that mingled its plaintive notes with the happy 
laughter which floated through the open sash and died 
away upon the breeze. 

But to Pyrrha the jubilant sound was but the mournful 
echo of a requiem. 

“ God knows when I shall come back to home, sweet 
home — my heart’s home — my husband ! Farewell, Philip ! 
May all angels bless and guard you ! And if we meet no 
more in this world of pain, God grant us a speedy reunion 
beyond the Gates of Pearl. Not until we stand before 
the high court of Heaven will you know what this part- 
ing costs me, or how faithfully I love you. Our happi- 
ness has been fleeting ; it has melted away like a snow- 
wreath thrown upon the bosom of a summer sea. Fare- 
well, my all on earth, farewell ! ” 

She touched her slim fingers to her cold white lips, and 
wafted a kiss toward the room which sheltered his be- 
loved head. 

There was no bitterness in her voice, only a mournful 
despair, a calmness that was frightful. She hurried to 
the carriage-house, where she found John waiting, and 
seemingly lost in deep meditation, for he did not move 
until she spoke. Then he sprang to his feet, removed 
his cap, and said : 

“ My lady, I am sorry I spoke as I did this morning, 
and that I worried you with that story.” 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


175 


“ Was it the truth, John ? ” 

“Yes, it was that. But I will go to poor old Clifford 
and wait upon him as long as you say, my lady, and may- 
be you will tell the doctor that I didn’t mean to disobey 
him •” 

“Thank you, John,” broke in his mistress. “But it is 
unnecessary, since I am going myself. Say nothing of 
my whereabouts to-night. In the morning come over as 
early as possible. You had better take a train to River- 
side, as that will be the quickest way. I may need your 
services, and shall depend on your coming.” 

“ I will not fail you, my lady.” 

“ Is my horse ready ? I must leave at once.” 

“ He has been saddled for the last hour,” replied the 
man. “ You had better go out by the way of the garden, 
for I see the guests’ carriages are in front.” While Fay 
spoke he assisted his mistress to mount Deucalion, and 
with a feeling akin to awe watched them depart. 

Pyrrha, wrapped as she was in a large dark cloak 
whose folds streamed on the breeze far behind, looked 
like some grim spectre riding a ghostly steed which sped 
noiselessly away into the night. 

“ There’s something terrible back of all this,” mused 
the gardener. “ He ain’t a lover, as I at first suspected 
until I saw it was Clifford. He’s too old — too forlorn — 
too — too much like her. That’s it ! I saw the likeness 
just now, but for the life of me I couldn’t tell where it 
was. I’d give a month’s pay to know what that old pal 
of mine can be to the doctor’s beautiful wife. I wonder 
if he knows she’s gone ? Of course not. Didn’t she say 
no one was to know her whereabouts ? Humph ! I 
hope he don’t come to me. I wouldn’t like to go to court 
as one of the witnesses in a divorce, and I’d rather lose 
my right hand than tell my master a lie. Guess I’d bet- 
ter turn in, or they might suspect I had a finger in the 
pie.” 

He emptied his pipe, returned it to his pocket, and, 
much disturbed in mind, went to his cot. 

The moon had almost sunk, only a segment of its disk 
being visible, which shone above the horizon a blood-red 
when Pyrrha reached the highway. 

She drew her hood still closer about her face as a 
horseman advanced toward her, but Guy Paulding had 


ij6 


pyrrha: 


already recognized the poise of the enveloped head, and 
the snow-white animal. He galloped up, and with all 
the skill of a bandit seized Deucalion’s bridle. 

Paulding expected a startled cry, an angry exclama- 
tion, but no sound came from the muffled face, and for a 
moment he was staggered by the calmness of the erect 
motionless figure. He saw, though, that her eyes glit- 
tered with a dangerous light as he said, with mingled 
hate and derision : 

“ Why this haste, fair cousin ? You see, dark mantles 
cannot hide such radiant beauty as yours. What may be 
the meaning of this midnight stroll ? Have you stolen 
from the arms of your sleeping husband to be clasped in 
the more ardent embrace of a lover ? If so, you are 
most unwise to imperil your spotless name, your honor, 
for the mere gratification of a moment’s pleasure. Be 
discreet, abandon this dangerous freak — delightful as it 
is. You see, I mean well, and am ready to be of service. 
I faithfully promise to remain in the background while 
you caress the poor devil you have lured ” 

His mockingly spoken insult was interrupted by a 
stinging blow which Pyrrha dealt him with her ivory- 
handled whip. 

He loosened his hold on Deucalion’s bridle, and 
uttered a savage cry of pain and rage as the horse 
dashed off on a mad gallop, and the fair rider was lost in 
the dense shadows, while from out of the darkness came to 
him naught but the sound of the flapping of her mantle. 

“ She’s mad ! ” he muttered. “ How her eyes gleamed ! 
and not a word would she speak. I wish I had kissed 
those luscious lips ; perhaps they would then have 
deigned to answer me ; or that I had informed her of 
Allan’s recapture. Ah ! perchance she knows of it, and 
’tis this that has turned her brain. If so, we are even, for 
she has unbalanced my heart, and I cannot get- it quite 
right again, though Mildred Potts is a soothing com- 
panion. Sorry I did not have an opportunity to inform 
her that it was I who set the detectives on the right scent ; 
she would realize then that I have not been merely a 
barking dog. I’ll follow her ! But stay ! — my duty is to 
arouse the husband, open his eyes to his wife’s danger 
and her unworthiness. Revolting as such an office may 
be to my sensitive feelings, I will do him that kindness. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


177 


Wait, my fair Pyrrha, you will find I have been thorough 
in my revenge.” 

Laughing harshly, he set his spurs into the quivering 
flanks of his horse, and darted off in the direction of the 
Everemond’s residence. 

The sharp peal of the bell brought Martha to the door. 
Her face was red and tear-stained, and her lips prayed 
inaudibly that it might be some tidings of the wife, whose 
departure had just been discovered. 

“ Madam,” said Paulding, lifting his hat and stepping 
into the hall, “ will you take my card to Dr. Everemond, 
and say that I have something of such importance to 
communicate that it must be my apology for this late 
call ? ” 

“ He desired particularly not to be disturbed. If you 
will give me your message, sir, I will judge of its impor- 
tance, and act accordingly.” 

Mrs. Peake had heard much of this young man that 
was unfavorable, and she did not like his bold glance and 
overbearing manner. 

“ I doubt whether Dr. Everemond would thank me for 
confiding his wife’s misdemeanors to any ears but his,” 
Paulding returned, with cutting sarcasm. 

“ Sir, how dare you ! What can you say against his 
wife ?” 

“ More than he would like to know ” — with a significant 
smile. 

‘‘You are presuming ; you are ” 

“ A gentleman,” broke in Paulding. “ Please remem- 
ber that it is Dr. Everemond I have called to see, madam.” 

She left him with a withering look of contempt, which, 
however, did not disconcert him, for he made himself 
comfortable in a large wicker chair and waited. 

Five, ten minutes ere his reverie was broken by the 
sound of a calm, deep voice. 

“ May I ask the reason of so late a visit from one 
whom I have the honor to meet for the first time, since 
it is no call for my professional services ? ” 

“ Dr. Everemond shall not long remain in ignorance. 
I presume you are cognizant of the fact that your wife 
and I are cousins ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Philip in that quiet tone. 

There was no outward sign of his suffering, no hint of 


12 


>78 


PYRRHA : 


the truth, and for an instant Paulding faltered. Could 
he have been mistaken ? 

A crumpled sheet of paper fell from the physician’s 
coat pocket to the carpet, and, as he stooped quickly to 
pick it up, the intruder observed how his hand trembled, 
and he went on : 

“ Permit me to impress you with the aversion I feel in 
coming to you with information which is distasteful and 
extremely painful to me. Only my strong sense of duty 
could have induced me to undertake this unpleasant 
task.” 

“ Well ? ” asked Philip, as Guy paused. 

“ The Powells have created sufficient disagreeable 
notoriety to make one blush to own relationship, but this 
last mad freak of Pyrrha’s ” 

“ Sir,” controlling himself with difficulty. “ You seem 
to forget that the lady you speak of is my wife." 

“ The pity of it ! ” sneered Paulding. “A woman who 
bears that sacred title should not hazard her safety by 
the danger of ” 

“ Danger ! ” gasped the physician. 

“Yes, for I met your wife on the highway scarce an 
hour ago ; well disguised, it is true, but not sufficiently 
to blind me to her identity— ” 

“ Stop ! Mr. Paulding, you are either mad or dream- 
ing, for my wife is — at home. I cannot understand your 
motive, your story, unless I attribute it to a diseased 
mind. I believe my wife said you were inclined to be 
illusive. Permit me to prescribe for you.” 

Philip uttered the lie, he knew not why, realizing the 
fact that soon her flight would be generally known, and 
he would be powerless to shield her. 

“ If I have been so grossly mistaken, pray allow me to 
see my cousin for a moment, that I may beg her forgive- 
ness for my unjust accusation, and to bid her farewell, 

as I leave C early in the morning for a foreign 

country.” 

“ You forget that it is long past midnight. There are 
writing-materials,” pointing to his desk. “ You can pen 
her a line to the same effect.” 

Paulding laughed sneeringly. 

“ Dr. Everemond, I understand you thoroughly. You 
would fain protect her, but too late. You know that 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


179 


your wife is not at home ; you know that I speak the truth 
in this matter. I sympathize with you, and for your sake 
I tried to reason her out of her folly, but for my kindness 
she struck me with her riding-whip. See, here is the 
proof,” extending his hand, which was swollen, and bore 
the mark of the lash. 

But the physician did not glance at it, and Paulding 
continued : “ You do not believe it ; you will say it is a 
delusion; but I tell you I know what I am talking about. 
I know that your wife has already tired of you, and that 
she seeks new charms in the lover whom she goes to 
meet.” 

“ Coward, not another word ! For shame to utter such 
infamy ! Out of my sight, or I may forget what becomes 
a gentleman.” 

“Just as you please, Dr. Everemond ” — with a meaning 
shrug and an uplifting of the eyebrows. “ I can under- 
stand that the naked truth, the appalling fact that your 
wife has left you, must cut deeply. Also that a task like 
mine is an ungrateful one, and a fellow usually gets a kick 
for his trouble. But I have done you an act of kindness. 
I have come to you like a friend ” 

“ Go, go quickly ! ” Philip did not trust himself to say 
more; he was trembling violently, and Paulding enjoyed 
this show of emotion. 

“ Sorry we can’t be friends. After a while you may 
think differently of the matter. You have my sincere 
wishes for your future happiness. Good-night, or rather 
good-morning.” With this parting shot he went, while a 
cruel smile played about his mouth and showed his teeth. 
He mounted his horse, looked back, and said : 

“ I am satisfied with my call. I know he lied, and that 
he is suffering.” Then he rode to his hotel, and without 
undressing threw himself across his bed to snatch an 
hour’s sleep. 

When the door closed after Paulding, Philip lost con- 
trol of himself, and the storm of conflicting passions 
burst forth in a tempest of grief. 

Between his sobs he articulated : 

“ Alone, mocked, and tortured ! And this is the fruit 
of my long-cherished hope ; the awakening of my love 
dream ! Deserted for some former lover ! Oh ! and I 
thought her so sublime.” 


i8o 


pyrrha: 


He took the crumpled letter from his pocket, and again, 
through his blinding tears, read the few hastily written 
words which Pyrrha had penned before leaving the 
house. 

“Philip, husband,” the note began ; “trust me for a 
few days. I am not guilty ; I have not ceased to love 
you, but I must leave you, because duty demands it. I 
am going to one whom I thought dead ; more I cannot 
tell you to-night. Trust me ! trust me ! and all will 
soon be well.” 

“ ‘ Not guilty,’ she says. What can it mean ? That 
man ! And she believed him dead. Good Heaven, what 
horrible thoughts seize upon my brain ! What if I am 
not her husband! Oh, no! no! I will not think so basely 
of her. God knows, perhaps I am all at fault, perhaps — 
But that man, that kiss, that parting ! Oh ” 

A fresh outburst of emotion concluded the sentence. 
After a while he went over to the grate and stirred the 
dying embers, but he failed to start a flame among the 
charred wood, which looked grim in its smouldering con- 
dition. He shivered like one struck by the chill, damp 
breath from a vault, and said aloud : . 

“ The fire on my hearth has gone out with the light of 
my life, and there is nothing left me now but its ashes — 
its ashes.” 

“ Oh, Philip ! ” cried Martha, as she entered the room. 
“ Have you a clew ? What did he tell you ? Did he see 
anything of Pyrrha ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you know where she is ? ” asked Martha 
eagerly. 

“ No ; he met her on the highway.” 

“ The highway, this hour of the night ? Goodness ! 
something terrible may happen to her. How can you 
be so unconcerned when she is in danger ? Why do you 
not go and find her ? ” 

“ Because she has gone to---to — ” He could not 
force himself to say “ lover.” “ She perhaps is hap- 
pier at this moment than she could ever be with us 
again.” 

“ Philip Everemond, what do you mean ? ” 

“ That my wife no longer loves me.” 

“ Fiddlesticks ! You weary me. Where are your eyes 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! l8l 

if you cannot see your mistake ? She not only loves you, 
but adores you. I have not lived these many days in her 
sweet presence without analyzing her character, for I 
confess that I had made up my mind to dislike her when 
you brought her home. Yes. But I tell you now, cousin, 
there isn’t a truer, purer woman on the face of the earth 
than your wife Pyrrha. You are unworthy of her. You, 
in your jealousy, condemn an innocent woman — no doubt 
believe that she has run off with another man. That’s 
what you men always believe.” 

“ And it is the truth in this case,” he replied bit- 
terly. 

“ Philip ! So you really believe her disloyal ? ” 

“ I have said to my heart a thousand times, No ! But 
I heard her exchange love-words with a stranger in the 
dark, heard them kiss, and knew they embraced each 
other. I stood but a few yards from them, in the shadows 
of the lime-hedge near the old Geer place. I would 
have called out, but my tongue clove to the roof of my 
mouth ; I would have seized the wretch who came be- 
tween me and happiness, but I could not move a muscle. 
I was rooted to my horse, a sudden paralysis overtook 
me, and I was powerless to act. When I recovered from 
the shock, the man had vanished ; I could not find him, 
and I followed behind Pyrrha’s carriage. ” 

“ Why, it must have been her brother Allan.” 

“ No, Martha, she said he was still in England.” For 
a moment Mrs. Peake was silent. 

“ Philip,” she finally said, “ I believe Pyrrha has a 
family secret. I am sure of it ; a secret she cannot con- 
fide to any one. She asked me to have faith in her, and 
said soon she would be able to explain, and then you 
would know what she was suffering. Do not believe her 
guilty until she confesses with her own lips. Be gener- 
ous, as you have been to others ; trust her, and like a 
noble husband go out and look for her. Perhaps you 
will learn all ; perhaps you will see the man and under- 
stand why she kissed him. Will you go ? ” 

After a brief pause he answered : 

“ Yes.” 

“ God bless you, Philip.” 

Again the bell rang loudly. 

“ Ah, perhaps ’tis she ! ” cried Martha. 


182 


pyrrha: 


A moment later a message was handed to the physician 
which ran as follows : 

“ Allan is recaptured. I am ill in New York. Do all you can to 
save my poor boy. Mrs. Powell.” 


CHAPTER XX. 

A pale streak of light appeared in the east, and the 
angel of night folded her wings of darkness and slowly 
vanished before the misty gray vapor of early dawn. 

John Fay, unable to sleep, arose, slipped on his woollen 
blouse and patched trousers, and, drawing a large felt 
hat well over his forehead, crept out into the chilly 
morning air. He hurried toward the railroad station, 
thinking out some excuse he should offer on his return 
in case he should be called upon to explain his ab- 
sence. When he reached the depot he found that a 
crowd of boisterous men had congregated on the plat- 
form, while near a dark wagon, which he recognized with 
a shudder as a prison van, stood several officers. Fay 
hesitated ; he had a pet aversion for the blue-coated 
limbs of the law, and every time that he saw one an 
unpleasant chill crept down his spinal column, and he 
usually beat a hasty retreat. Would it be well to venture 
near them ? But, realizing that there was no other way 
for him to reach the Geer, except on foot, and that 
would require a good hour and a half, he concluded to 
face them boldly. It was yet too dark to distinguish 
their faces, or he would have observed their nervous 
glances as they watched the noisy group. Cautiously Fay 
drew near, and he heard an officer say : 

“ The train is due in three minutes, and we haven’t 
time to get an extra force. No use getting nervous over 
the matter, we can manage the crowd. Shaw is a power- 
ful fellow, and can look after his prisoner. Do you know, 
Spencer, I am mightily sorry for Dr. Everemond and his 
wife.” 

“What’s this?” thought John, and he listened with 
open mouth as the officer continued : 

“ I wonder if they know that Powell has been caught ? ” 

“ By thunder ! It’s Mrs. Everemond’s brother they’re 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 1 83 

talking about. Got him back ? That’s darned tough,” 
muttered the gardener. 

“No, of course not,” replied Spencer ; “it was a dead 
secret about here till a few hours ago. Some said it got 
afloat through a telegram, but I’d like to bet it was that 
fellow Paulding ; he was mean enough to betray his cousin, 
and he no doubt told the night clerk at his hotel, for I 
see the bartender of the place among these fellows.” 

“ Oh ! you know him, eh ? that sounds bad for you,” 
returned the first speaker. “ Hello ! What’s that, fel- 
lows? ” 

Through the gray fog which now prevailed could be 
seen the outline of a carriage, which dashed up to the 
extreme end of the platform. At the same time the shrill 
whistle of the approaching Northern express was heard, 
and in a moment more the train steamed up to the depot. 
Instantly the scene was one of wild excitement and com- 
motion. The swinging of lanterns which gleamed but 
faintly through the mist; the puffing of the iron monster 
that throbbed like some human heart; the hooting crowd, 
which instantly clung.to the car windows and clambered 
upon the steps; the commands of the police — all combined 
to make it a strange, unusual scene, and strongly im- 
pressed Fay as he looked on. 

The carriage door had opened, and Guy Paulding 
sprang out, assisted a closely veiled woman to alight, and 
endeavored to get her aboard the train ; but the mob 
was savage, and amid their cries for the prisoner pushed 
the couple back. It was all Paulding could do to protect 
his companion from the blows that now fell thick and 
fast among the rioters. No one but Fay, who retreated 
far into the background, observed that at this exciting 
moment a horse, covered with foam, came upon the scene. 
In a twinkle, the hatless rider, with whip in hand and 
“blood in his eyes,” sprang from the animal, dashed 
among the agitated group, striking right and left while 
searching for the runaway couple. 

He caught sight of the woman, and, with a bound like 
a tiger, seized her from Paulding and threw her aside; 
then he brought down his whip with rapid strokes on the 
young man’s head and shoulders. 

Mildred’s screams and Guy’s frantic gestures attracted 
the mob toward them. A full-fledged riot ensued. 


184 


PYRRHA : 


Cursing, shouting, and beating became the feature of the 
scene. Passengers from their windows called to the 
police, who were endeavoring to quell the turbulence, 
but their voices only added to the uproar. The de- 
tective now appeared with his prisoner, Allan Powell, on 
the platform of the rear car, and, unobserved, hurried him 
into the carriage which had brought hither Paulding and 
Mildred Potts a few moments before, while Paulding, 
in the uncertain light being mistaken by the police for 
the prisoner, was dragged, half unconscious, torn, and 
bleeding, to the prison van, hurried in, and driven rapidly 
to the jail, followed by the infuriated mob. 

Frederick Potts, the hatless rider and outraged hus- 
band, jumped on the train in hot pursuit of his wife, who 
had managed to get aboard, though nearly fainting with 
fright. The bell rang, the whistle blew, and the train 
pulled slowly out, leaving John Fay alone, dazed, terri- 
fied, and almost doubting what he had seen. 

Finally he gave vent to a loud exclamation, and ran 
briskly toward the saddled horse, whose owner was 
speeding away at the rate of forty miles an hour. 

“ I’ll ride you, old fellow, and not wait for the local 
train. I’ll get to the Geer ten times quicker. Good 
Lord ! what will she say when I tell her ? They’ll hang 
him sure now. I’ll be blowed if I ain’t tickled the way 
they did up that cousin of hers. I know it was him. I 
saw his figure, and I knew his voice. I wish they had 
killed the high-toned villain ! ” Fay was in the saddle 
quickly, and, urging the horse into a gallop, he soon 
reached the old forsaken mansion that was overgrown 
with weeds and lay in mouldering ruin. He sprang to 
the ground, entered the east wing, and hurriedly mounted 
the worm-eaten stairs, which creaked beneath his weight. 
He groped his way along the dark rooky passage, and 
felt his hat rise as he caught the phosphorescent gleam 
of a pair of eyes which looked down from the mouldering 
rafters above his head. The next instant the horned 
wing of a bat struck his face, while an owl hooted omi- 
nously. 

“ I believe this is the devil’s own hole. Scat ! you 
monsters. I ain’t just ready to join you.” 

He was frightened, he owned, and his knees knocked 
against each other as he felt up and down the rough 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


i*5 

cobwebbed boards for the iron latch. At last he found 
it, and quickly entered a large room, through which he 
passed, and on the door to the right rapped twice. 
Instantly it was opened by his mistress, who was ghastly 
pale, and in the gray light that filled the apartment Fay 
thought the wasted form, which was stretched on the 
moth-eaten couch, was that of a corpse. 

“ Oh, my lady, my lady ! I have such awful news ! ” 
cried John, without discretion, as soon as he caught his 
breath. 

“ My husband, Dr. Everemond ! Oh, my God ! what 
has happened to him ?” 

“ Nothing that I know of, but just now the train fetched 
in Allan Powell ; they’ve got him in jail,” replied the 
gardener excitedly. 

“ Back ! — Jail ! — My brother ! ” 

Pyrrha was stricken almost speechless ; she tottered 
backward to the couch, her eyes wide, and terror-stricken. 
“ One in prison, the other dying ! ” 

“ Father ! ” she called hysterically, turning suddenly 
to Robert Powell, and shaking him by the shoulder. 
“ Father, do you hear ? Allan is recaptured, and now 
they will hang him ! hang him, the innocent ! ” 

“ Father ! ” echoed Fay, “ her father ! Holy Virgin ! 
it is the truth.” And unconsciously he moved toward 
the door, as the old man slowly rose in a sitting posture. 

“ Hang the innocent ! Who has said it ? ” 

“ I, father, I ! What shall we do ? What will we do ? 
Stay, John, stay. Do not leave this room. Are you 
sure ? Can you swear to it ? ” 

“ If you mean about the prisoner, I can. There was a 
mad crowd at the train to meet him, too.” 

Pyrrha propped a pillow under her father’s back, and 
motioned John to hand her some wine. After the dying 
man had swallowed it, he said : 

“ My boy ! my poor boy ! Patience ; I am coming, I 
am coming ! Pyrrha, your hand, my child, and yours, 
man. Help me to rise.” 

“ No, no, father, you are too ill. John, go at once for 
Dr. Everemond ; say he must ” 

“ No ! ” and both were amazed at the sudden strength 
of voice, and at the figure which stood erect before them. 
Strong and defiant looked the face, and Robert Powell 


i86 


PYRRHA : 


seemed to have torn himself from the arms of death, 
which but a moment before held him in thrall. 

“Take me at once to the copse near the river. Give 
me your arm, John, and let us hasten. I have but a 
short time wherein to save him. I will not die until he 
is free.” 

“ Father, you are feverish. Ah ! hear me, and lie down 
until Philip comes,” pleaded Pyrrha. But he was fixed 
as iron in his determination, and, partly supported by his 
daughter and the gardener, they left the old mansion 
and slowly wended their way across the lawn and down 
to the willow copse. Pausing before the trunk of an old 
tree denuded of its branches, and which stood like a 
shattered column in the midst of the thick undergrowth, 
Powell leaned heavily on John, and said : 

“ Daughter, put your hand in the hollow of that trunk, 
remove the leaves, and you will find something beneath. 
Hand it to me.” 

Pyrrha did as he bade her, and, kneeling before the 
dead tree, thrust her hand into the cavity, and to her 
horror brought to view a piece of blood-stained silk, from 
which dropped a dagger. 

Instantly she recognized the curiously wrought handle, 
which bore her brother’s name. With a smothered cry 
she threw the silk over the rusty blade, but did not 
touch it again, for her eyes caught the raised initials, 
I. G., in the corner. It was a handkerchief. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

There was some difficulty in securing a jury for 
Allan Powell’s trial ; fully four hours were consumed in 
selecting the twelve men. 

In the mean time the enterprising editor of the Press 
had informed the community of the murderer’s return, 
graphically describing the arrest in London, the prison- 
er’s mode of living, the desperate struggle for freedom, 
the mother’s appeal, her grief and illness. Of course 
much was said which had never occurred, for newspaper- 
men draw largely on their imaginations, and do not 
always strictly adhere to plain facts. But we readily 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


I8 7 


forgive their weakness, considering how interesting are 
their narrations. Mildred Potts and Guy Paulding 
came in for a goodly share of notoriety, and every one 
in C knew of the attempted elopement which ter- 

minated so unpropitiously. 

It is as well to add here that Paulding was discharged 
as soon as the mistake was discovered. His handsome 
face was much disfigured, and will bear the scars of his 
daring escapade for life. He did not stay to bring suit 
for damages, but left immediately, and was never again 
heard from. 

As for Frederick Potts, he compelled his wife to 
return home and live up to his ideas of life, but her 
uncongenial existence was of short duration, for she died 
in less than a year from that memorable morning at the 
depot. 

Everybody in the town and for miles around were 
wildly excited over the assassin’s recapture. Farm 
wagons, lumber carts, and carriages of every description 
lined the streets about the court-house. No one seemed 
to mind the driving rain, or the cutting wind that 
howled dismally around the building. The one topic 
was the murder trial ; the one question, what will be the 
verdict ? 

The court-room was packed to the doors ; there did 
not seem to be breathing-space, and near the entrance 
there was a constant buzz of voices, and many were 
unable to hear what the district attorney was saying, 
though the judge rapped for silence a number of 
times. 

It grew so dark in the room that the lamps were 
lighted, but their chimneys were so badly smoked that 
they emitted but a dim, sallow glimmer, which lent a 
debilitated expression to the judge’s features, and partly 
concealed the formidable look on the prosecutor’s face as 
he held the attention of the throng for nearly an hour 
with his oratorical outburst, at times violent, and thun- 
dering against the growing idea that a man may commit 
a crime and then escape the penalty of the law provided 
there are money and influence to back him. 

The jury sat erect as statues, and listened attentively, 
while the prisoner, who was well guarded, as he was con- 
sidered one of the most daring of criminals, seemed 


PYRRHA : 


1 88 

entirely unconscious of the speaker. He heard not a 
word of what was said, but kept his eyes fixed upon the 
patient, suffering face of Dr. Everemond, who sat quite 
near him. 

Mrs. Peake was present, and nodded encouragingly to 
her husband, who was on the alert to assist his partner or 
give him a hint at some opportune moment, when he 
should plead for the defence. 

It was a gloomy, an ugly scene, yet it impressed the 
spectators with its austerity, and all recognized the 
“divine power of justice and the grand human thing 
called law.” 

“ The accused is dangerous,” continued the district 
attorney. “ He is not safe even behind iron bars, for has 
he not broken from grated windows, insulted justice, out- 
raged her confidence ? Is he not wholly responsible for 
the death of one of our most faithful officials ? and is it 
safe for the community to have such a man at large ? 
Since he has been indicted by the grand jury, and all the 
circumstances are against him, there is nothing else left 
but to call the witnesses, and then for the jury to render 
the verdict.” 

In the brief silence that followed, every eye was direct- 
ed toward the prisoner. 

A witness was put on the stand ; it was Sam, the butler. 
After taking the oath, he proceeded to tell distinctly all 
he knew. That he was the first to appear upon the scene 
of the tragedy ; of seeing the bride standing near his mur- 
dered master, and repeated her words, which accused her 
brother, Allan Powell, of the crime ; of her appeal not to 
give the alarm, as he (Powell) would then be lost. 

When he had finished, the name of Pyrrha Griffith 
Everemond was called to take the stand. Her testimony 
would be the most vital, and probably decide the prison- 
er’s fate. 

There was a general stir, a buzz of voices, and craning 
of necks to see the woman who had been a bride, a widow, 
and now a wife — all in so short a time. The spectators 
anticipated a ‘scene,’ for what woman could calmly face 
a curious crowd and swear away her brother’s life ? She 
would weep, faint, and be emotional in the extreme. 
They felt sure of a treat, and looked hard at the witness 
bench, which was well filled, many being the guests who 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


189 


had witnessed the scene of the murder. Will Blake was 
among them, and his nervousness was apparent. He 
confessed that it was a “ nasty piece of business ” to help 
condemn a man. 

None of the veiled ladies arose, and again the clerk 
called the name, while an officer opened the door of the 
ante-room, and repeated the summons. But there was 
no response, and the crowd began to wonder. Would 
the judge issue a warrant for her arrest ? Yes ; for, 
when assured that she was not present, he took up his 
quill, dipped it into the ink-well, and wrote briefly. Then 
an officer was dispatched with the warrant, and the court 
adjourned. The room was instantly filled with loud talk- 
ing, and many got up and went into the corridors to dis- 
cuss the situation. 

Mason Peake followed his partner, Mr. Moore, the 
attorney for the defence, into the corridor, and as they 
stood alone he said : 

“ Moore, it looks bad. I am afraid the district attorney 
has the ground.” 

“ Not if I can put in my plea,” rejoined Moore spirit- 
edly. 

“ I am of the opinion that his only chance will be in the 
non-appearance of his sister.” 

“On the contrary,” replied Moore, “I wish that she 
would come, that I may have an opportunity to stir up 
the jury and that listening mass of humanity. I would 
not miss a point. While I admit that his escape from 
jail was a serious error, I am entirely satisfied that Powell 
is innocent of the charge.” 

Mason shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head 
doubtfully, while Moore continued excitedly : 

“ What ! you, with all your experience, cannot see that 
it is a case of circumstantial evidence ? Come now, rea- 
son it out. It is clear that he was assisted materially to 
escape. Would any disinterested party have furnished 
him with the rope and file ? Of course not. Why is it 
not possible that the abettor is the real assassin ? He 
may be a person not altogether hardened, and did not 
want to see an innocent man die for his crime. Why, I 
am convinced that, if Powell would describe the accessory 
to his escape, we could find the criminal at once ; prob- 
ably he is at this moment in the court-room. Then, 


PYRRHA : 


190 

what positive proof is there that the accused went to 
Ravenwold instead of to the Geer ? ” 

“ Why, his sister’s recognition,” said Peake. 

“ True, she asserted that she recognized the back of 
the man who leaped from the window as that of her 
brother, but do you see anything extraordinary about the 
prisoner’s back ? Might not fifty or a hundred men 
have a back shaped precisely the same ? and surely it is 
not likely that a woman just recovering from a faint could 
fully identify a person when not seeing his face. And 
more, if the prisoner went to the castle with the intent 
to kill, would he not have taken some weapon with him ? 
whereas, it seems that the dagger which is supposed to 
have done the killing was the one the bride carried in 
the bosom of her dress, and which bore her brother’s 
name on the handle. Look here, Peake ! isn’t it folly to 
think that he would have used that weapon; and if he did 
not know that she carried his dagger, would he not have 
taken some instrument with which to commit the deed ? 
Then, as he was obliged to go immediately to the depot, 
after the murder, in order to catch the midnight train, 
there was not a moment’s time for him to secrete 
the weapon, excepting along the way to the rail- 
road station ; and as this ground has been carefully 
searched, and the dagger not found, why, is it not 
evident that the weapon was carried off by the real 
assassin ? ” 

“Your argument is clever, Moore ; and, if you get a 
chance to plead, there may be hope for the prisoner, 
though they may reason that the murder was not pre- 
meditated. Don’t let me discourage you, partner, but I 
am afraid if the district attorney gets another chance your 
appeal will be overthrown. Come, let us go in.” And 
they returned to the court-room. The spectators were 
again seated, the recess had been a brief one, and the 
judge rapped for silence. As soon as quiet was restored, 
the judge said : 

“ If the witnesses are now all here we will proceed 
with the case.” 

The door of the ante-room was again thrown open, and 
the clerk said : 

“ Pyrrha Griffith Everemond, come into court ! ” 

There was a breathless hush. A woman, majestically 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! I91 

tall, entered the gloomy room, and many recognized the 
prisoner’s sister, Dr. Everemond’s wife. 

She took the witness-stand, and the district attorney 
addressed her. But she did not answer him. Looking 
at the judge, the jury, and all those about her, she raised 
her voice and said : 

“Gentlemen of the court ” 

The last word died away into a groan, for up the aisle 
came two figures. Philip Everemond — who had risen as 
Pyrrha entered — recognized one as his gardener John 
Fay, but the other, who leaned on the latter for support, 
he did not know. 

Who was that strange old man ? asked every tongue 
in the court-room, as he slowly moved up the aisle, look- 
ing neither to the right nor the left, but with his eyes 
fixed on the woman in the witness-box, whose extreme 
pallor of face was like that of his own. 

The man panted, and his long white hair was wet ; 
not from the rain — for he had come in a carriage — but 
with an icy perspiration. His hands were cold as death, 
and his head was swaying from side to side. All those 
whom he passed shivered as if he brought with him the 
crypt’s chill breath. The officers did not attempt to stop 
him, and the spectators rose up, while those in the back 
of the court-room stood on their seats. A frightful still- 
ness fell over the place, and again Pyrrha raised her 
voice : 

“ The prisoner at the bar is ” 

“ Not guilty ! ” interrupted the strange intruder. 

“ No, not guilty ! ” echoed the woman. 

A quiver passed over the audience and jury, for there 
was something so terrible in her voice that every heart 
seemed suddenly chilled. The district attorney was 
speechless ; the judge was stricken dumb, as the hoary 
figure paused before him. The prisoner grew frightened 
and hid his face. Philip Everemond seemed petrified ; 
he partly arose, but could not speak a word. 

“ Your honor, let me speak ; grant me your attention 
for a moment. Listen to me well, for I come to do jus- 
tice — to betray the real assassin — for Allan Powell is 
falsely accused ! ” 

The man stood alone as he spoke, and it was observed 
that his head was now steady, his figure erect, and his 


192 


PYRRHA : 


voice clear and firm. No one responded, and he pro- 
ceeded : 

“ Gentlemen of the court, how fatal would have been 
your mistake ! In a little while you would probably have 
condemned an innocent man. The criminal is here. 
Behold in this wreck Ivan Griffith’s Nemesis, his mur- 
derer ! It was / who killed him ! ” 

The silence was broken by a strange noise — a gasping 
for breath. The judge seemed to recover himself, and 
asked — though there was no sternness in his voice as he 
addressed the weird figure who had appealed directly to 
him : 

“ What is the meaning of this strange interruption ? 
You talk wildly ! Who are you ? ” 

“Robert Powell — father of the accused.” 

Dr. Everemond caught hold of the railing, for a sudden 
darkness passed before his eyes, and a frightful dizzi- 
ness seized upon him. 

Her father ! How he had wronged her ! A flood of 
bitter self-reproach surged over his heart. He would 
have thrown himself before Pyrrha, who had given him 
but one look, and pleaded for her forgiveness, had it not 
been for the motley crowd. 

“ I thought her false, and he a lover. I believed her 
happy, and refused to search for her. Oh, wretch that 
I am ! How blind I have been ! ” was Philip’s inward 
comment. 

“ This is some trumped-up affair,” said the district- 
attorney, as he arose, “some clever trick to save the 
prisoner ; for Robert Powell, father of the accused, is 
said to be dead for many years.” 

“Yes, dead to the world, for he was mad,” answered 
Pyrrha, leaving the witness-stand. 

“ Mad ! ” echoed a chorus of voices. 

“Ay, mad ! ” responded Robert Powell. “Your honor, 
have I your consent to proceed ? ” 

“ It is against the rules of the court. The intruder 
should be seized at once,” spoke up the district-attorney, 
and the formidable look again broke over his face. 

“ It is my will that Robert Powell should speak ; though 
he is much changed, I now recognize him perfectly,” 
said the judge with decision. He spoke the truth, for he 
had known Robert Powell in the days of his prosperity. 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


193 


“ God be praised ! Hear me with patience, and in 
your hearts pray for me. I will be brief, and, gentlemen 
of the court and jury, I will tell the truth, the whole 
truth, as I hope for pardon from my God.” 

He took up the Bible and kissed it with a solemn awe. 
There was no doubting the terrible truth, and those who 
had heard the prisoner’s speech instantly recognized the 
resemblance in their voices. 

There was also a strong likeness to that of the woman’s 
face, though she was young and fair, he old and gray. 

Pyrrha displayed no desire to prevent her father from 
confessing to the morbid crowd the entire circumstances 
of his crimes, though Philip was there and would hear 
all, would, perhaps, shrink from her, and reproach her 
for having wedded him and drawn him into this un- 
pleasant notoriety. She did not weep ; her tears had all 
been spent. She stood motionless near her father, while 
Fay retreated, feeling very uncomfortable. The solemn 
hush that reigned, the gloomy room, deeply impressed 
him. 

Robert Powell told hurriedly all that the readers al- 
ready know — of the millionaire’s passion for Pyrrha ; the 
attempted assault in the conservatory ; his many failures, 
and final ruin ; his journey to New Mexico ; the attack 
in the dark ; the blow which destroyed his reason ; his 
many years of insanity and suffering ; his life as a 
burglar ; his association with the convict, John Fay ; the 
meeting of Griffith ; the bank robbery ; then of his fall, 
which restored his reason ; the recognition of the bride ; 
his tramp to Ravenwold, and the struggle he witnessed ; 
his entrance, and the killing, using the dagger which 
the millionaire had thrown from the bride a moment 
before. 

“ Here is the weapon ; see, the blade is dark and 
rusted with his blood. This is his handkerchief ; I drove 
the dagger through it, and it clung to the handle. See ” 
— holding up the stained silk — “ here are his initials, and 
this the rent made by the blade. When I saw him fall, 
knew that he was dead, I sprang from the window and 
ran toward the river. Then only was I conscious that I 
had the weapon still in my hand. I was about to throw 
it into the water, but heard a noise, and I caught the 
gleam of an owl’s eyes. It all came to me suddenly to 
13 


i 9 4 


PYRRHA : 


hide the weapon in the hollow of that tree. I drove the 
bird from its perch, wrapped the dagger in the silk, and 
put it in the tree, filling up the hollow with leaves. Then 
I fled to the swamps. After long, weary weeks of suffer- 
ing — ah, what suffering ! — I was taken with a fever 
which has never left me. I knew I was dying, and sought 
my daughter, swore her to silence, and confessed my guilt. 
When I learned that my boy — my innocent boy — was a 
prisoner, and would be condemned to death, I prayed 
God for strength to come to you, gentlemen, and tell all, 
that you might understand my motive for killing him. 
Pyrrha, my daughter, can swear that I hid the knife, for 
she and John Fay saw from whence it was taken. Grant 
me one word with the boy whom I have so wronged — 
one word of comfort — then I am ready to go to my cell.” 

The judge readily assented to the request, and in 
another moment father and son were locked in a close 
embrace. 

The clerk had possession of the dagger and handker- 
chief, while another court officer had taken down the 
confession. 

Philip Everemond led his wife to a seat, and she after- 
ward declared that, had he not been there, she would 
never have survived that scene. After begging her to be 
strong and calm, he left her, to be ready to render any 
assistance that might be required. He saw that Robert 
Powell was nearing his end, that it was but a matter of a 
few moments now, for already the light of the other world 
shone in his eyeballs. 

“Judge, I — am ready. Have me arrested, and release 
the prisoner. Ah ! God is good, for I have come in time 
to save my boy.” As he spoke, he advanced toward an 
officer, but again his knees gave way, and his hands 
groped in the air like the flutter of a dying bird’s wings. 
His head swayed, and his chest sank in. He would have 
fallen had not Dr. Everemond caught him in his arms. 

“What is it?” asked the judge. 

“ He is dying,” replied the physician. 

“ Send for an ambulance,” said one of the officials. 

There was a great stir among the audience, and one 
could scarcely find a dry eye in the court-room, for 
Robert Powell’s pathetic story had gained for him the 
sympathy of all — even to the district attorney. But he 


A STORY OF TWO CRIMES ! 


*95 


did not need it now. His soul was preparing for its 
final flight, and soon he would be beyond the reach of all 
earthly powers. 

“ Pyrrha ! Allan ! are you near ? I — I cannot see 
you, the lights are going out. Ah, yes ; the days grow 
shorter now. God is good, my children, and this is hap- 
piness to be near you again. Dr. Everemond ” — and he 
turned his glazing eyes on the physician’s face — “ do not 
blame her, my little girl. It was all my fault ; I — I 
made her promise, and she loved me, too. Be good to 
her, make her happy.” 

“ I will ! I will ! ” almost sobbed Philip, his heart 
aching for the lonely sufferer. 

“ Can you do nothing to save him ? ” asked Pyrrha. 

“No, he is beyond all human help.” 

A dry, quivering sob passed her lips. 

“ If you can only save him I would willingly die for 
his crime,” said Allan huskily, as he helped to support 
his dying father. 

“ Pyrrha, your hand ! ” called the old man, in a voice 
that seemed to come from a long distance. “ Do not 
leave me, for the way is so dark. I am going all alone, 
and I have been so guilty ! Won’t some one pray for 
me ? When I am gone, tell my Helena, my poor Helena, 
I did not want to break her heart. Lay me to rest beneath 
the old catalpa-tree, you remember, where we used to sit 
and listen to the humming of the bees. Is some one 
praying for me ? Speak loudly, for there is the sound of 
rushing waters in my ears.” 

“Yes, father, yes” — and Pyrrha broke down com- 
pletely. 

“Your hand, doctor. There, take hers, and never let 
it go till I stretch mine from out the grave to take it 
from you.” 

He managed to join their hands, and again for an 
instant he rallied. 

“ Judge, you have heard all — all. I am the guilty one. 
I — killed — him ! — Pyrrha ! ” 

With her name on his lips he fell back. 

“ The ambulance has come,” said some one near the 
physician, but he did not hear ; he was looking at the 
white, dead face which Pyrrha was covering with tears 
and kisses, and at Allan’s quiet, grief-stricken counte- 


196 PYRRHA : A STORY OF TWO CRIMES! 

nance ; while the one word “ Dead ” echoed solemnly 
through the gloomy court-room. 

* sfe :jc * * 

Allan Powell was honorably acquitted of the terrible 
charge, and in time won the respect of the community by 
his irreproachable life When Nettie Giles grew to 

womanhood she became his wife, and they left C and 

settled in New York. His mother, who knew very little 
of her husband’s tragic end, resided with them. 

Pyrrha grew happy as the dark epoch of her life faded 
into a dream of the past. Her trials and suffering were 
forgotten in her husband’s smile and tender care, and 
when a little baby girl nestled against her bosom, and 
looked, with eyes like Philip’s, into her face, she kissed 
the little pink mouth and said : 

“ Philip, my husband, this is heaven. Let us thank 
God.” 


THE END. 


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